


Concerning Politics and Prophecies

by A_Fool_in_Love



Series: Concerning Another Path [2]
Category: Tawny Man Trilogy - Robin Hobb
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Plotty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 87,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2681546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fool_in_Love/pseuds/A_Fool_in_Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>** Title change, because Concerning the Avalanche that Began with the Pebble was a mouthful**</p><p>Sequel to Concerning Love And Plumbing. The time for Dutiful to journey to the Outislands and slay the dragon Icefyre has come, but things are not as they could have been. The pebble has done its job and new plots are simmering that could jeopardize not only the quest, but Farseer rule in the Six Duchies. There is contention among the nobility and the divide between the duchies that began during the Red Ship War has become apparent once again. Fitz must navigate the currents of politics while keeping the rumours of his identity from destroying him. Unfortunately, his faith in his compass, the Fool, is wavering while he struggles with the changes in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

I hesitate to call the following of the White Prophet a religion because it is so very different from all other religions I have known. It is said, in that belief, that time moves in a great circle. The successes and mistakes of one generation are repeated by the next, and the balance of rights and wrongs in one cycle will determine the starting point for the next. If new evils and wrong-doings are added, then time will spiral progressively further into a future of darkness, suffering, and evil. On the other hand, every new good deed and unselfish act that is done for the betterment of the world will tip the balance in the opposite way, nudging time into a better path. So, rather than events being controlled by one powerful being, it is the belief of followers of the White Prophet that every action of every individual has the power to shape the future.

Some individuals have more potential to influence the future than others, however, by virtue of their decisions being made in the right time and place to alter a key moment in time. Naturally, one thinks of kings and warlords, but such a person could arise from any walk of life. A mother may take her son to market one day and allow him to sit and watch a group of minstrels. That boy may be inspired to take up the trade himself and, years later, sing a song that will move another man to propose to his sweetheart. Their child may become the soldier that rises to command and leads a company of men into a battle that changes the tide of a war. Or not, if the mother decides to visit a family friend instead. It is the duty of the White Prophet to seek out one whose decisions lie at junctures and crossroads in time and to influence those decisions so that time will be steered down a better path.

Such a one is called the Catalyst, and that is what I was to the White Prophet of my time.

And to the other White who also claimed to be Prophet.

Both sought to use my life to shape the future, and they both had different visions for what that future should be. Their dreams and prophecies had one thing in common, and they both agreed that the survival or not of dragons was the major divergence that could be used to shift the wheel of time into a better path. So it was that prince Dutiful was given the quest to slay the dragon Icefyre, buried in the ancient ice of Aslevjal island, and so it was that I was sent to help him as a member of the Queen's guard. I could either aid him in completing his quest, or I could sabotage the mission and free the dragon from the ice.

The Fool once advised me that in the Pale Woman's future, there was no Farseer heir. That in the world that she envisioned, I had never been born. Failing that, I did not survive. The Pale Woman assured me otherwise, saying that the time where my death would have been useful had passed and that now she would not only make me a king, she would also give me a son.

I was skeptical at the time, of both of their words. The Fool's despair and certainty that there were no good endings left to her fueled my denial. I did not want to believe any of it, and so I did not. Only now, when I look back on all of the events that unfurled, do I see that I was wrong. Now my apologies are too little, too late and they are whispered to an empty room and carried off into the night. Could I have done anything differently to prevent the death and the blood shed? It is useless to wonder such things now.


	2. Unwanted attention

_... rose up, their decaying forms not walking, but disassembling and then re-forming continuously, as the winds pushed them ever closer to a pillar of black stone that stood alone on a precipice. In some Dreams, the pillar falls into the sea below. In others, it stands tall and strong. In this Dream, the pillar was chipped and cracked, and the leaf-men bore it down before succumbing to the change in season themselves, and decaying into the dirt._

\--Fifty-third sheet of vellum recovered from a chest in Buckkeep castle.

Spring arrived gradually that year, taunting us with occasional days of sunlight and heat, only to shatter our hopes with a hand's depth of snow in the night. Despite that, at long last, the final mounds of the snow had melted and leaf buds emerged on the trees like cautious scouts assuring themselves that winter was truly gone. The smell in the air was a wet one, full of last season's dead leaves and new growth. The days gradually began to grow longer, and the court showed it's appreciation by displaying early blooming flowers at every opportunity. Talk of the approaching Spring Fest became more frequent, and very nearly overshadowed the talk of Prince Dutiful's upcoming voyage to the Outislands, that seemed to approach more quickly every day.

All of these things I noticed only in a cursory way. Talk was important only as it yielded information for Chade and I to discuss in the dark hours of the night, and life was too busy for me to pay more than a passing glance to the decor. The warmer weather was convenient because I did not have to take the time to dress warmly before going out to the practice courts, where I trained my body vigorously. I seemed to have recovered much of my strength after the Skill-healing I'd been subjected to at the hands of the coterie, but I was shamefully in need of practice. The battle axe was like a familiar friend that I hadn't seen in several years; its weight was welcome in my grip, but I had become unaccustomed to handling it. When I was preparing for a confrontation with the Piebalds, I had taken it up but for the most part, as Tom Badgerlock, my weapon had been the sword. The switch back to regular use of the axe found me straining muscles that had gone unused for years. I walked away from practices with more bruises than I'd had when I was a lad training with Burrich, but the pain of them was sweet. The sword had never suited me, and it felt good to be using my old weapon again.

As the thick hangings over the windows were removed and the shutters opened, the keep began to seem more cheery. The light also made me more aware of the nervous glances that people would throw my way. During the talks with the witted folk, the majority of my time was taken up with discussions and spying. I walked a fine line to ensure that my loyalty to the Farseers would be demonstrated without appearing to slight the Old Blood. Within the walls of the conference room, my identity as FitzChivalry Farseer, the Witted Bastard, was as close to fact as a rumour could be and my standing was mostly the better for it. No-one ever spoke my name, referring to me only as Tom Badgerlock, but it was obvious in the Old Blood's awed gazes and Kettricken's respect for me that they knew I was no mere guardsman. My opinions and suggestions were taken with value. I think that even Sharptooth's hatred of me was softened by my efforts to reconcile the three groups. The Six Duchies representatives were another story, however. They appeared to be confused by my presence at first, but the rumours had been spreading through the keep since my capture by the Piebalds, and it did not take long for them to decide that the talk had been true.

It had taken some very careful wording to avoid sparking hostility from them, and I bowed to Chade's expertise, taking his suggestions for how to address each noble and what stance to take the next day. Such talks would begin after my spying was complete and continue late into the night, leaving me yawning and irritable the next morning, which nearly had me abandoning all that Chade and I had so thoroughly discussed. It was hard work to avoid offending anyone, and I began to appreciate why Dutiful had run away from his life as a prince in the first place.

I heaved a sigh of relief at the end of the talks, but any time I had hoped would be freed by their conclusion was swiftly swallowed by preparations for the journey to the Outislands. Three weeks before our departure, I concluded my morning beating with a bow to my practice partner and excused myself. Keen had been recommended to me by Blade Havershawk, one of the of the guardsmen who still spoke easily with me, and he was more experienced with the weapon than I. It showed. I was sore and longed for a trip to the steams to relax, but I was late for Skill-lessons with the coterie, so I decided that I would make do with changing my shirt.

I walked past a group of young nobles as I made my way from the practice courts. They were chattering loudly about their plans for Spring Fest, and Lord Golden was lamenting the fact that he would not be present to witness the festivities. His profligacy and immorality were still able to cast a powerful spell over the young people of the keep, and seemed to render him immune to any gossip that might have begun as a result of his earlier disappearance.

”Oh, do stay, Lord Golden!” Simpered one of his hangers-on, “It will be ever so much more fun than a tiresome ship ride! All know that the dragon is a myth and the Outislanders are positively savages. Why not remain in civilization and enjoy yourself here?”

”Tut, tut.” Lord Golden chided, raising his pale eyebrows, “Where is your sense of adventure, my dear? If one is to talk of civilization, the only subject can be Jamailia! And where do I find myself? Why, here, of course. It is my adventurous spirit and my love of travel that led me to this place. I could not possibly deny it now, since it has led me to such fine company already.” Here he patted the girl's hand and deftly removed her from his sleeve while seemingly giving an affectionate gesture. His gaze skated over and through me as I made my way past them.

Since our return to Buckkeep and my hurtful words to the Fool, we had not spoken. I had moved my base of operations into the workroom the next day, and it was there that my feet were steering me. I scowled to myself as the chatter of Lord Golden and his entourage faded behind me. I truly was tired of hearing how my life was not my own and a part of me would prefer to consider such ideas to be madness than to accept that my actions had such a large influence on the world. Still, I knew that I had spoken harshly. My numerous attempts to catch the Fool alone for an apology were in vain, though. Always it seemed that Lord Golden had abandoned his quarters in favour of some evening entertainment or else they were filled with guests until the wee hours. No longer his servant, I couldn't very well barge in, and so I did not and I would leave feeling frustrated.

Lord Golden scarcely used his quarters in the keep at all in the days following our return. I discovered through conversation with one of the Lady's Maids that he had rented the entire upper floor of the Silver Key, the better to indulge his Jamailian appetites. Indulge them he did, so gossip said; visitors were said to come and go at all hours of the night from Lord Golden's rooms, men and women with equal frequency. These notions I dismissed easily. The Fool was an individual obsessed with privacy, and I very much doubted that any appetites were being indulged at all. Still, every rumour has a small grain of truth to it, and I wondered who these people were to call on my friend while I was being shunned.

I was mulling on this, freshly irritated by having been ignored, when a large hand settled on my shoulder, startling me. I spun around, not tensed, but relaxed into the stance of a fighter ready to defend himself. Web merely chuckled and held up his hands briefly, showing himself to be unarmed, before adjusting his slightly rolling gait to fall into pace beside me. His voice was deep and jocular, “Easy there, Tom! What troubles you to make you start like that?”

I sighed inwardly at this unwelcome company, but stuck a smile on my face that I hoped was convincing as I explained, “I've just come from weapon's practice. I suppose I'm still in the fighting mindset, that's all.”

Web nodded, “You're a good man to train so diligently. It's been a bit of a shock, seeing all these court folk with so much time on their hands. Don't know how they do it.”

”Surely being Wit-master leaves you with a few hours to yourself.” I observed, not unkindly. Web had stayed on, along with a few other Old Blood, to set an example for others and to educate the un-witted.

Web laughed heartily, “Oh, I'm sure it's meant to. Perhaps it will when the novelty of entertaining the Queen's Wit-master wears off. I enjoy a good meal and good conversation, but it does come as a bit of a shock to one used to a quiet life. I expect that you had a rather similar experience, coming back after so many years of solitude.”

Web let the speculation dangle for me to confirm or deny. The man was garrulous and could talk for hours. I did not have hours, and I needed to slip into the spy corridors if I wanted access to either the workroom or the Seawatch Tower, so I answered briefly, “It was certainly a change.”

Web hummed as though I'd said something profound, “Yes, it would have been. Even a once familiar place can seem like a foreign land after the years go by. If you don't mind my saying so, it must have been even more difficult after your wolf's passing.”

Reflexively, I checked our surroundings. Web had followed me into the castle and the servants were busy as ever, but I doubted that his comment had been overheard. “Yes, it was.” I confirmed, simply. Thinking of Nighteyes was still painful to me, and I had doubts that that pain would ever soften into the fond recollections that some have for deceased friends. Nighteyes and I had been too close; our lives so thoroughly entwined with one another's that it felt as though I'd lost a limb, no, a part of my very soul. 

Web seemed to sense the decline in my spirits because he added, sympathetically, “The passing of a partner is always difficult. They live on in us though, and they shape us. He isn't completely lost to you.”

”He's lost enough.” I snapped. 

Web was unaffected by my anger, “I don't mean to imply that you don't have every right to your grief. You should grieve. You were closer than man and wife, and that kind of loss cuts at a man. I just want you to know that it does get better.”

”I'd been bonded before Nighteyes.” Without realizing it, my defensiveness drew me into conversation with him.

”Were you?” He asked, intrigued, “Forgive me, but you seem young to have experienced more than one bond.”

”I was a boy. I've already been informed that I was too young, so you don't need to say it.”

Web frowned, “I know that our kind share too much with our beasts to allow them to be ill treated but-”

”They weren't ill-treated.” I interrupted, then my heart sank. Smithy had been killed while I had been undergoing Galen's final test of his Skill students. If I had been there, instead of miles away in the woods, would the attack have still occurred? It was so long ago, yet thinking of it made the memory of Smithy's death come vividly to my mind, and the smell of blood filled my nostrils and the taste filled my mouth. It made me feel sick.

Web's low voice managed to penetrate the fog that had engulfed me, and he patted my back in a manner that might have been comforting to someone more accustomed to being touched. “Forgive me, Tom. They were difficult times then, and more difficult for you, I have no doubt. It seems that I've dredged up some painful memories when my intention was to offer you comfort.”

”It's fine,” I lied. A couple paused in their conversations and moved to the far side of the corridor to pass us.

”What I'm trying to say is, if you ever feel the need to talk, I'm willing to lend an ear. I spoke with Holly some time before I arrived here, and I think that I could teach you some things about our magic that might help you. I won't force it on you, but the offer is there if you should decide to take it.”

”That's very kind of you, Web.” I said, pausing in my walk as I came to a servant's stair, “I would hate to keep you any longer, though, when you have so little free time to yourself.”

Web looked as though he might press the issue, then thought better of it and nodded, “Good day to you, Tom Badgerlock. I hope I'll have the pleasure of speaking with you again soon.”

”Good day.” I answered, and headed up the stair.

Four floors up, and I slipped into my childhood room, unnoticed. Ghost stories kept it vacant, and I was grateful for that. I had finally figured out how to trigger the entrance to the spy warren, and I entered silently, shutting the way behind myself. The tiny slits in the walls illuminated the space sufficiently to prevent me from tripping, but my feet were familiar with that long stairway and I could have navigated it in blackness. It might have been preferable, since the little slivers of light highlighted all of the dust motes that were stirred by my passing.

My legs ached in addition to all of my other pains from training when I emerged into the workroom. It was vacant, save for Gilly sleeping on one of the pillows. Since it had been made common knowledge that Chade planned to instruct Dutiful in his heritage magic, he had been able to use the main entrance to the tower room. I, however, could not. I heaved a sigh as I took off my jerkin and shirt, draping them over the back of a chair, carelessly. I pulled a clean shirt from my trunk and shrugged it on, longing for the days when I could dress in a simple tunic and leggings. The shirt had far too many laces and the accompanying jacket was no better. I fiddled with the tiny buttons as I re-entered the spy passages and made my way to the tower.

The rest of the coterie was assembled by the time that I arrived.

”You've a cobweb on your cheek.” Chade observed in greeting. I brushed the offending strands away as I took my seat at the table.

”And your buttons are off by a hole.” Dutiful piped in, helpfully. I groaned.

Thick was more sympathetic, “Clothes fittings is not nice.” He nodded to himself, “Thick broke two of his buttons and the ladies all poked Thick with pins.”

Dutiful shook his head, “It was an accident, Thick. They weren't doing it to punish you. You needed new clothes.”

Thick was stubborn, “Clothes ladies not nice. They hurt Thick.”

Privately, I thought that the seamstresses very well could have poked Thick with the pins on purpose, but well did I know that the little man was capable of holding a grudge; I would not make this one any worse, “I'm sure they didn't mean it, Thick.” I finished re-buttoning my coat.

”Well, now that we are all assembled,” Chade interjected, giving me a pointed look, “Perhaps the Skill Master would like to begin the lessons?”

I rolled my shoulders and sighed, “Right. Well, did anyone have any luck?”

The three all looked at each other in silence for a moment, unwilling to be the first to speak. Dutiful broke the silence first, “I'm not entirely sure... It's difficult to tell what's a proper dream and what isn't.”

Dutiful's father, Verity, had often used the manipulation of dreams to scare superstitious raiders or to encourage weary soldiers. My daughter, Nettle, seemed to have a very strong talent in the manipulation of dreams via the Skill. It seemed a useful talent to have. “Alright, well why don't you tell me exactly what you dreamed? Did you feel as though you were still alert and in control?” I prompted.

Dutiful mulled my questions over before answering, “I readied myself for bed as usual, nothing out of the ordinary. When I lay down to sleep, I spent some time meditating, staring into the flames of the fire. I hoped to ease myself into sleep gradually so that I could maintain some awareness while it was happening. I could sort of tell that I was falling asleep, at some point, so I opened myself up to the Skill as well. I let it rush by me without letting myself go in it.” It was an exercise we had practiced tirelessly. “It was hard to relax enough to fall completely asleep after that, and I remained awake for a time. I thought that I felt you in the current, Tom, but when I tried to find you, I could see the current and I was standing beside a river. I think I must have actually fallen asleep then. Then I heard music, and Thick was there too.” The little man paused in his nose picking at the mention of his name, “ It did feel as though I were still awake. The river was flowing through a city, a huge one, like the ones depicted in some of our old tapestries, and it was amazing! Like no place I'd ever seen. The buildings were enormous and all connected. In the middle of the river there was a statue of a dragon sitting on a pedestal, and I wondered if that was what my father looked like as a dragon. It was beautiful. The water steamed around it and made it appear as though the dragon were sleeping on a cloud. I studied it for a time, I'm not sure how long, but then it moved! It opened one eye and looked at me. Then it stretched it's wings, and they shimmered more colours of blue than the sea or the sky have ever done. It was amazing. It stared at Thick and I and then it was suddenly in front of me. It demanded to know where Icefyre was. It wrapped it's claws around me, when I did not answer, and I was afraid. I remembered what you told me, though, about desiring something and then making it so in the dream, and so I sort of pushed the image of my bed chamber out from my mind using the Skill and I woke up.”

Chade scoffed, “It sounds like an ordinary dream, to me.”

He may have said more, but my entire attention was focused on the Prince. I recalled my dreams of the dragon Tintaglia. “No, Dutiful. I think that you did very well. You did not create the world of that dream on your own, but you did control it to an extent by freeing yourself from it.”

”Pish!” Chade protested, “He frightened himself awake. A common enough occurrence during a nightmare, and with the upcoming voyage, it is only reasonable that he dream of dragons.”

I thought of one way to confirm the theory that was filling my guts with dread, “Thick, did you see the dragon with Dutiful last night?”

The tubby little man squinted his eyes and his tongue protruded even further out of his mouth as he frowned at the urgency in my voice, “Yeaa-ahh...” He drew out, looking sideways at Dutiful.

”This is very important, Thick.” I urged. Chade snorted, but I ignored him, “Can you tell us what happened in your dream?”

I must have scared him with my insistence, because he shook his head at me, “Nah. I don't want to.” And he crossed his arms over his belly.

I sighed. “It's alright, Thick. Chade, why don't you share your dreams with us now?” I turned my attention to my old mentor.

Chade grumbled to himself but he answered, however reluctantly. I think that the anger in his voice was directed more at himself than me, “I'll tell you what I dreamed of. Nothing. Just an ordinary nightmare of darkness and these enormous eyes staring at me.” He mimed a wide eyed stare and then sat back in his chair with a disgusted huff.

”Were they copper coloured?” I asked, my heart clenching.

Chade paused, “Well, I suppose that they were now that you mention it. The colours sort of swirled as they looked at me.”

My own dreams had been ordinary last night, though I did make a brief Skill-visit to Nettle's dream. She was upset with me for going so long without seeing her, but other than her scolding, it had been a peaceful night without any interruptions. I had not even felt Tintaglia lurking outside of my walls. I suspected now that I knew where she'd gone.

”Well. Useful as such a skill may be, I think that we should focus on something that may help us more on our journey today. Dutiful and I have had some practice with this, so we will partner with the others. I think that you'll enjoy this one, Chade” I added to cheer up the sulking oldster, “What I propose is forming a Skill-link and attempting to watch events out of the other's eyes. It is something that Verity and I did during the war, and it may be helpful during talks with the Outislanders or other situations where not all of us can be present.” I could see Chade's eyes light up at the prospect. That would make his spying easier.

Dutiful smiled at Thick, “Do you think you understand how to do it? Dutiful sees what Thick sees, or Thick sees what Dutiful sees?”

Thick frowned, “Thick sees what Thick sees.”

”Well, yes, normally.” Dutiful explained, “But we would be using the Skill to see what the other person sees.”

I turned my attention to Chade. I could see why Dutiful had immediately taken Thick as his partner; Chade was nosy enough without the Skill at his disposal. On the other hand, I would rather have Chade use me than Dutiful. I was already Chade's, and truthfully this might save me quite a lot of long hours reporting. I smiled, “So, I take it you'd like to be the one observing?”

At Chade's nod, I reached over and touched his hand. The Skill is not a magic limited by distance, but physical touch always made it easier to create a link. When I was younger, Verity had needed to renew our Skill-links with a physical touch every week or so. I had become more proficient with time, but too late to be of any help to Verity. It sent a surge of guilt through me to think that if I had applied myself to the study of the Skill in those years, perhaps I could have helped him to wake the stone dragons before he took it upon himself to create one. I quashed it. There was no need to make Chade privy to those feelings.

We had become accustomed to Skilling with one another and were able to establish a link easily. It was a relief to me that Chade seemed to be building reserves of his own Skill strength to draw upon, rather than feeding off of mine. I doubt that I could have kept him riding with me for long if he had not. I sensed Chade's thoughts and his nervousness. What if he failed? It was one thing to practice and fail in private, another with a witness.

 _Relax, Chade._ I encouraged, _Just will your awareness across our link and into my mind._ I opened myself to him and felt him cautiously join his awareness with mine. 

”Thick!” Dutiful laughed. “Not with your eyes, with your Skill!”

Chade's concentration broke, and despite my attempts to hang onto him, our connection was broken as well. He growled. “Will you two be quiet!”

Thick looked upset, Dutiful went wide eyed for a moment and then apologized. I forced a smile, “Maybe we could adjourn for now and work on this in our groups. There's no need for all of us to be in one place for this. We'll reconvene tomorrow and you can let me know how you fared.”

Dutiful rose and sighed, “Probably for the best, anyway. Mother says that I'm to practice my Outislander today.”

”It's a good idea.” I felt obliged to defend, “You'll want to be as fluent as possible when we arrive.”

”I know. Come along, Thick.”

As the little man followed Dutiful out of the room, I turned back to Chade. “Shall we try again?”

I was surprised when Chade declined, “Later, I think. I've a meeting with several of the nobles who've been less than pleased with all of the alliances Kettricken has been working on. I'd best give it my full attention. Some time tonight, perhaps.”

”Very well.” I agreed. I was privately glad that we postponed our experiment. Like a fool, I still had not sent Nettle's gifts off for her. Chade already knew of her, and that I contacted her via the Skill, but there were some things that I did not want Chade sniffing over like a hound at a bit of carrion. He would no doubt wonder if I was trying to win her over, and he would surely realize that I'd delayed sending them, as the scarves were intended for winter use. Should I even bother to send them? Better late than never, I supposed, though I wondered if she would even remember that dream we had shared.

Chade rose, “Still. I'm sure it will all blow over soon enough. As soon as they get a whiff of the trade advantages, they'll change their tunes.”

”Any word regarding the Bingtowners?” I queried.

”Delicate, delicate. It's difficult work to go on refusing them without appearing to actually refuse them. What concerns me is that Chalced may very well force our hands if that blood thirsty duke of theirs decides to push their boarder in our direction as well. If that happens, then we must appear to be participating out of the goodness of our hearts if we are to reap the advantages.” Here, Chade snorted derisively, “If any advantage exists to another damned war. We already enjoy good trading relationships with the south, and even if their dragon is real, I'm sure she obeys no will but her own.” His voice trailed off and then he seemed to shake himself back to awareness, “No. No real advantage there at all.”

I had no real opinion on the matter, though I'm sure that I could have formed one if I put my mind to it. The politics of the Six Duchies were for Kettricken and Chade to muddle through, and I had enough to worry about without adding a war into the mix. “I thought that Shoaks and Farrow, at least, were all for a war with Chalced.”

”Oh, they are.” Chade confirmed, “It's Bearns, Buck, and Ribbon that see no benefit to it. No, Shoaks, Farrow, and Tilth are all up in arms about Buck's new stance on the Wit magic and the 'wasteful' trip to the Outislands. Good enough, they say, that we will be taking the Mountain Kingdom on Eyod's passing. Why break bread with our ancient enemies when we could be ensuring a peaceful transition there, or focusing more on our own politics. There's no pleasing everyone, though. They'll soon see the good sense of it when amber and furs start finding their way along the river. They complained about paying taxes to support the war, and now they object to peace as well. I often wonder if the blood in those duchies isn't getting a bit too old.”

I snorted, “Just be sure not to say that at the meeting.”

Chade grumbled, “Yes, well, if they continue to pester me with their nonsense I very well might tell them. Emphatically. There is so much to arrange and so little time left in which to do it.”

”Surely Kettricken has been Queen long enough to be able to handle such affairs.”

”Oh yes, she can handle them. Everyone will smile and nod on the surface. It is what goes on beneath the surface that I am concerned with.”

”Your apprentice?” I asked. Chade had apparently taken a new apprentice since my departure, and I saw the sense of it. What I did not see was any sign of the lad. Had the old fox been bluffing to make me jealous?

”No, I'm afraid that my apprentice is not quite ready to take on my full network, and you will of course be coming with us. A shame that you wouldn't allow me to send for your daughter. We could use a Skilled one at the keep for communication.”

I did not suggest that the old man stay behind, “As I recall, Burrich said that he would kill you if you tried any of your interferences on Nettle. Besides, if she came, then you would insist on bringing her with us.”

Chade glowered, “That was before he knew that you lived and that Nettle was Skilled. And did I not just say that she would stay here? Use your mind, boy. If anything were to happen to us and she was along, then we would risk losing every heir to the throne in one swoop. No. We would keep her safe. Here, where she could be educated as befits the one who stands in line to inherit a kingdom if we all die.”

I sighed, “I see your logic, Chade, I do, but I just can't. She should be allowed to live her life as she wishes, without the pressures of growing up in court.”

”These are different times than the ones that you or I grew up in, Fitz. Court is not so terrible a place. She may even enjoy it. What you see as giving her freedom could actually be confining her to a life with no prospects other than to marry some farmer.”

I bristled, “I see nothing wrong with a simple life.”

”I know, I know. You have this romantic notion that farmers have no worries other than whether it will rain or not. Would you have her toil for the rest of her days to make ends meet, bearing children that will probably never even learn to read?”

”Nettle knows her letters, she would teach them.”

”And what of other languages? Culture? Music? Geography? Figuring? Surely you must acknowledge that life at court has it's benefits.”

I shook my head, “Ask me anything else, Chade. I will do it. Just leave my daughter in peace.”

”Oh?” I knew a moment of dread as a spark lit in Chade's eyes, “Then will you abandon this foolish notion of freeing Icefyre and do your duty to your prince?”

I sighed, “When the time comes, I will do what I must.”

”And what you must do is your duty.” Chade reminded me, “You swore an oath, Fitz.”

”You act as though I were plotting treason.” I scowled, resenting the heavy handed way that Chade manipulated me.

”I act in the best interests of the Six Duchies. On the off chance that we do find something buried under the ice, the Prince has given his word that he will lay it's head on the hearth of the Narcheska's Mothershouse. Our alliance with the Outislands depends on it.”

”Depends on the childish whim of a girl and the thoughtless boasting of an adolescent boy.” I grumbled.

”You imagine that adulthood is any different.” Chade scoffed, “I'm off to deal with more of the same right now. We will attempt our Skill exercise tonight.”

I nodded. I sat for a few moments in the quiet of the tower room after Chade departed, mulling over the mess that my life had become.


	3. Openness

_I Dreamed of blackness last night. That is all._

\-- Sixtieth sheet of vellum recovered from a chest in Buckkeep castle 

I went into Buckkeep town in order to find a messenger willing to carry Nettle's gift to her. I did not include my name, but I was sure that she would know from whom the gifts had come. Since the Skill lesson had concluded relatively quickly, I found that I had some rare time to myself. There were other things that I could be doing of course: translation work, spying on Chade's meeting, mending, or practicing my Outislander, to name a few. Those things were set aside, however. It was a beautiful spring day, and I thought that I deserved some time to relax.

It was approaching midday, and the market was lively with merchants and customers alike. Many folk in Buckkeep Blue were about on errands or their free time, and some of them were children probably shirking their lessons. I had only sympathy for them that day, and I could not find it in me to reprimand them as a more responsible adult would have. Let them have some freedom to enjoy the fine weather.

My thoughts went to Hap, and I realized that I could spend an hour or two with the lad if his master would let him go. It had been weeks since I'd last seen him. I did not even know when he'd left the keep. I was a terrible father, I realized with shame. Still, it had not always been so. At the cottage I'd seen to every aspect of the boy's education, and spent every day with him. Buckkeep court politics were simply stealing away my time. If I wanted to, I could make time, a small part of me protested. I resolutely ignored it. Hap was free of Svanja now, and he was staying with the other apprentices. The Fool would have made sure that he went safely back to Gindast, and Hap was nearly a man now. Surely he would resent his adoptive father interfering with his life. 

But it would be nice to catch up with him, I decided. Just to prove to myself that I was not a bad father, I added a pair of silver earrings that were shaped like roses to Nettle's package, and after paying the messenger, I let my feet take me towards Gindast's shop. It was surprisingly easy going, considering the crowds, and it took me a moment before I realized that people were stepping out of my way. Recalling Jinna's tactful advice, I placed a pleasant smile on my face for the rest of the walk.

At Gindast's shop, I was greeted by a journeyman who released Hap to me and promised to pass my thanks on to his master. Hap seemed pleased to see me, and he began to chatter as soon as we'd fallen into step with each other, leaving the shop behind. He'd grown a bit, and he had the fuzzy beginnings of facial hair. The lad was sixteen years old now, though neither of us knew the exact day of his birth. It was shocking to me to see him and contrast that image to the skinny little boy that Starling had gifted me with. I'd been hopeful that he was mine, and though he was not, he had become more my child than either of the children of my blood. Why had I gone so long without seeing him? His mismatched eyes, one blue and one brown, twinkled up at me as he excitedly related that he'd been allowed to assist one of the journeymen in assembling a cabinet that would grace the home of one of the wealthy merchants in town. He was already excelling past the other apprentices, he noted proudly, and he attributed much of his success to the little tricks he'd learned from Lord Golden.

”Why can't I be his apprentice instead, Tom? I'm doing well here, but he was a much better master than Gindast will ever be!” Hap asked as we wandered through the market.

”Lots of reasons,” I answered. “For one, being Gindast's student will have more weight than being Lord Golden's; he isn't known for his wood working.”

Hap scoffed, “No, that he isn't.” The way he said it told me that Lord Golden's reputation was well known in town as well as in the keep. “Still, it shouldn't matter, should it? As long as I'm good at what I do.”

”Every advantage helps. Besides, I was going to tell you this over dinner, but my name has been drawn from among the guards to accompany the Prince on his voyage to the Outislands. Lord Golden will be going as well.”

Hap grew sober at that news, “Your name _was_ drawn, wasn't it? It's got nothing to do with... with what everyone's been saying?”

I frowned, puzzled, “What's everyone been saying?”

”They say you're actually Prince Chivalry's bastard.” He spoke the words quietly and in a rush so that I had to strain to pick them out over the din of the windy market place, “They already said that you were witted, but now they're saying your actually him. Rand and I got in a fight over it the other day, even.” His expression darkened further, “He said that I must be witted too if I was your get, and a demon besides, because of my eyes.”

My insides turned cold and I stopped in the middle of the street. A group pushed by me, but I paid them no mind. Hap stopped and looked back at me. “I blacked one of his eyes, so now they don't match either.”

The world came back to life around me and I nodded, jerkily. “Well, good. Hap, I-”

Hap's eyes were dark and his jaw was set, stubbornly, his shoulders tensed, “I'm not stupid. I put it together myself.”

I took a step nearer and put a hand on his shoulder, “Come on. Let's go to the Dog and Whistle. We'll discuss this over a late lunch. Okay?”

Hap nodded. We continued down the street in silence. He seemed to relax again as we walked, but I was still wound tightly. It seemed that every secret I'd ever kept was coming back to haunt me. My identity as Tom Badgerlock had come apart at the seams, spilling all of FitzChivalry's past and troubles into the light of day. And they were affecting Hap. They would affect Nettle, too, if she ever found out that she was my daughter. I abruptly regretted sending her gifts. Would Hap hate me? If not for who I was, then for keeping the secret from him? I didn't think so, but the fear persisted stubbornly. Even if he didn't, would others try to treat him badly because of his connection to me? Keeping his apprenticeship with Gindast might not even be a matter for discussion if they did. He might have to leave Buckkeep town entirely.

The Dog and Whistle was full, but many of the lunch-time patrons were already leaving and Hap and I were able to secure a quite table in a corner. The chatter of the other customers gave us more privacy than an empty building would have. I sat and Hap sat across from me, looking around the room. I set a few coins out on the table and a serving boy soon came with two mugs of ale and a rapidly delivered list of what was available for lunch. I chose the roast and Hap chose the stew. When the boy had departed, I waited a moment before speaking, considering my words.

”Hap, I know that you aren't stupid, and you deserve the truth. I won't lie to you.” I took a breath. It was the first time that I had spoken these words aloud since assuming my new identity. I made sure of my surroundings before speaking, quietly. “It's true. I am FitzChivalry Farseer, but I had left that life behind me. I became Tom Badgerlock, and so I expected to live for the rest of my days.”

Hap was frowning, but it was more thoughtful than angry. “Why didn't you tell me?”

”I have a lot of bad memories associated with that life, Hap. I planned to leave it all behind and start over. I never meant to hurt you by doing it. I had expected the past to stay buried.”

”What am I supposed to tell the other boys when they try to start fights?”

My answer shamed me, “It would probably be best if you pled ignorance. I know it won't help. I'm sorry, Hap. Opinion of the witted is low right now, and it's best if my identity remains a rumour for now.”

”I'm not mad at you anymore.” Hap informed me, “I was at first, but I don't tell anyone here that I'm raider-born. I understand leaving that sort of thing behind. I don't even think I'll tell my children. If I ever have any, that is.”

Relief. “I'm still sorry, Hap. I didn't want any of this to affect you.”

”It hasn't been easy, but it hasn't been too bad either. Rand is the only one mouthy enough to say anything to my face, and Gindast hasn't even acknowledged the rumours. He still treats me the same.”

I nodded but was still ashamed, “I'll understand if you don't want me to come and see you at Gindast's anymore. You can even tell them that you've cut ties with me, if it will help.”

”Don't be stupid, Tom,” Hap glared. “You didn't turn me away after finding out my parentage.”

”Yes, I know, but that sort of thing doesn't matter to me.”

”It doesn't to me either!” My words had insulted the boy.

”I know, but it might to your future customers or to the other apprentices.”

Hap gave me a stubborn look, “Well, then it's just like I told you before about my apprenticeship. It doesn't matter what name I've got associated with me as long as the work I do is good.”

”That's true in an ideal world, Hap, but the world isn't ideal. People can be vicious.”

”I know that. I learned that years ago, when I was scrounging for food in the rubbish heaps and my own mother'd thrown me away. People can do awful things, but there are some good ones too. You took me in and treated me like your own son. You even came back to Buckkeep to make sure that I would have a decent apprenticeship. If people won't buy my work because they don't like who my da is, then I don't want their money anyway.”

”Hap...” I was full of gratitude and affection for the boy, even as I worried for his future. My adoptive son's words moved me. Before I could embarrass myself by tearing up, the serving boy came and deposited our food before us. I thanked him and gave him two coppers.

Hap took a large spoonful of his soup, blew on it, and ate it. He made a noise of appreciation then said, “Much better than the Stuck Pig.”

”Do you still go there often?” I asked, skirting around the real question of whether he'd seen Svanja again.

”No.” Hap shook his head, “The food was terrible anyway.”

I nodded, and our conversation lapsed for a moment as we both enjoyed the food. Hap's stew was fragrant and thick with chunks of meat and vegetables, the broth dark and rich. My slices of roast were juicy and tender; nicely browned on the outside and just a bit pink inside. I savoured it. The dish came with a side of roasted vegetables, and I decided to eat those first, so that I could take my time with the meat. Nighteyes would have mocked my appreciation of cooked meat. I had no qualms about eating raw and bloody meat, but cooking was a human comfort that I was rather attached to. I decided that I would leave a few extra coppers for the cook.

Hap dunked a bit of bread into his stew and chewed on it before breaking the silence, “I have so many questions for you. I feel like I don't really know you anymore. No offence, but I always thought you were just a boring old country man.” He grinned, goodnaturedly, “When I saw you with your sword and axe I was surprised. I guess it all makes sense now.”

”You know me.” I assured him, “Everything that you know of Tom Badgerlock is still true. I did spend a long time living in that cottage, and I thought I'd be there for the rest of my days. I enjoyed the peace and quiet.” As I digested my own words, a new understanding about the Fool came to me. I could not put it into words for myself, but I held onto the thought as though I were cupping motes of light in the palms of my hands. I said the words that I thought would comfort me if the Fool were to offer them. “If you like, one day, I'll borrow you for an evening and tell you some stories.”

Hap's eyes lit up, “Really? I'd like that. This explains why you would always go a bit pink when Starling would sing The Battle at Antler Island Tower, and how you two know each other. Did all of that really happen?”

”Er, well... I don't remember having 'eyes of flame' or doing anything quite so heroic.” Starling had composed a song detailing my heroism during the defense of Antler Island Tower during the _Rurisk's_ engagement with the Red Ship Raiders. Battle madness had overtaken me and I'd wielded my axe with a savagery and stamina that surprised me looking back on it. So intent was I on slaying the raiders that neither pain nor weariness could touch me. Starling's song said that I slew their leader, but if I did, I do not recall. There had been so many bodies.

Hap continued on, oblivious to my distraction, “Lord Golden said that you two were old friends. Does he know who you are?”

”He does. We've known one another since childhood.”

Hap frowned, “How is that possible if he's Jamailian? Did he come for a visit?”

I chuckled, “Well, when we get together for those stories, I'll see if he wants to tell you that tale. He's much better with words than I am, and it would probably be more entertaining.”

Hap nodded, squirming a little in his seat with the eagerness of a child awaiting a puppeteer's performance. “Can we do it before you leave?” Then he frowned, “It won't be a dangerous voyage, will it? Will you be gone for long?”

I smiled, “Don't worry. I expect it'll be rather boring. Lots of stale food and sitting about waiting to be told what to do. Perfectly safe.”

Hap narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then decided to believe me. He nodded, “Good. Will you be here for Springfest?”

I shook my head in a denial, “No, I'm afraid not. But you enjoy yourself for me, alright?”

Hap grinned, “I'm sure I will! Springfest was amazing last year. I'm sorry that you'll miss it.”

”You can tell me all about it.” I returned his smile. “Speaking of which, you've grown since last year. We should get you some new clothes while we're out. Something nice to catch the eye of a pretty girl, perhaps?”

Hap blushed, “Tom!”

I chuckled. Once we'd eaten the last of our food and drained our mugs of ale, we stepped out into the market again. The sun was just beginning to wester, and the crowds were thick. It was like wading through a battlefield to find Hap some decently fitting leggings and tunics. We placed an order with the cobbler for a new pair of boots as well, to be delivered to Gindast's, and by the time all was said and done the sky was darkening. I'd neglected my duties today, but it was worth it to be able to spend some time with my boy. On our way back to Gindast's, I bought a small bag of barley sugar sticks, aware that the currency of children was different than an adult's, and passed them to Hap. “To share with the other apprentices.”

Hap smiled, “Thank you, Tom.” He pocketed the sweets and turned to face me as we arrived outside of the shop, “I know it might not seem like it all the time, but I am grateful for you taking me in and for doing so much for me. You didn't have to.”

I pulled him in for a quick hug, “As far as I'm concerned, you're my son, Hap. Go on in. I'll speak to Gindast about having you for a night or two before I leave.”

Gindast was in his workshop, putting the final touches on what I assumed would be the headboard of a bed, when a younger apprentice led me in to see him. The lad trotted off, and I stood there awkwardly while he finished, unsure if I should interrupt. The place smelled of sawdust and paints and it made me want to sneeze. Gindast himself was an old man, with a stoop to his shoulders and his remaining hair gone pure white. His wrinkled face was lined further with his concentration, but his age had not decreased the steadiness of his hand as he deftly applied the intricate details of a flower to his work. I cleared my throat and shifted, but I was either unnoticed or ignored.

After several long moments, Gindast looked up from his work and gave me an appraising look before turning away to wash his brush. When he'd finished and set it down he finally addressed me, “Tom Badgerlock. Hap's father, eh?”

”Er, that's right, sir. I-”

“There'll be no 'er'ing and 'um'ing in my presence, lad. Say it clearly now.”

I blinked. Only Chade still referred to me as though I were a child. I supposed to Gindast, I was. I straightened my spine and spoke more clearly, “That's right, sir. I'm Tom Badgerlock. I've just returned Hap. I was wondering if I could borrow him for a night or two after his lessons some time in the next three weeks, since I'll be away for a time.”

”Night or two, eh?” Gindast considered, narrowing his eyes and wiping the paint from his weathered hands onto a rag. “I don't approve of slacking. It won't do to spoil the lad. Discipline is important at that age. Glad to see he's finally buckled down and given up on that Hartshorn girl.” His tone of voice implied that Hap's earlier romantic blunder had been my fault.

I stifled the urge to defend myself, “I agree with you, sir, and I'm glad as well.”

Gindast was apparently not finished, “Problem with a lad coming on so late is that he's already formed a few years worth of bad habits. Has to work that much harder to shake them.”

”Yes, Hap had already begun to experiment on his own at our cottage. I wasn't aware that the practice would actually be detrimental.”

”He's been a tough one to settle down.” Gindast informed me, “Being up at all hours of the night with that girl and being surly the next morning, butting heads with the older boys, reluctant to perform the usual tasks given to apprentices...”

I shifted on my feet, feeling as though I were being scolded. Perhaps I was. “I hope that he's improved since then? I heard that he was doing quite well, recently.”

Gindast threw the rag down and shuffled a few steps closer, peering at me. The lines in his face seemed set in a permanent scowl, “That lad has the most damned potential of the lot of them. He's got creativity and he's got work ethic now he's not sniffing after that Hartshorn girl.”

I blinked again, taken aback by the sudden shift, “I'm glad to hear that.”

”Just two evenings ago I went to investigate a commotion from the apprentice's rooms.” Gindast began to pace, puttering about and putting things to rights, capping paint pots and sweeping away wood shavings. “I found he'd made a crude puppet out of the left over wood scraps and was using it to amuse the younger children. Week before that I found he had a little wooden harp and was singing away, some nonsense about pecksies for the boys. The lad can do good work... when he's got a mind to do it.”

I saw the Fool's influence and harp immediately, “He's been used to setting his own schedule and working on things that he chooses to. I'm sure he'll get used to making things to a customer's specifications soon.” I assured Gindast.

Gindast nodded several times, “You take him when you've a mind to. But I won't tolerate mischief and I won't tolerate slacking. You make sure he comes back ready to work.”

”I will, sir.” I agreed. My head was spinning from all the directions the conversation had taken.

Gindast waved me out the door, but he stopped me before I'd stepped outside. “I won't tolerate any trouble here either. Gossip. Fighting. Ruins a lad's focus.”

”Yes, sir.” I agreed, before stepping out into the growing darkness.

I took my time walking back to the keep, and I wandered the streets of Buckkeep town for a time before setting my feet on the proper path, my head full of worries. The sky was clear and the wind was refreshingly cool. I shut my eyes for a moment, leaning against the wall of a building and taking a deep breath of the salty air. The streets were still lively, and I could hear the laughter and music of a spirited party drifting down from the rooms above me. Would that I lived such a carefree life. I knew what awaited me at the keep was more of the same intrigue and politics. Chade would no doubt be full of news from his meeting. I would be berated for not having studied any of the scrolls on the Outislands or the Skill that day. Chade and I would undertake the frustrating task of teaching him to Skill-ride with me. I sighed, reluctant to end my brief freedom. I worried about Hap and I wished that I at least had the Fool to confide in. Telling Chade my worries would only result in more careful planning of the way I should speak or act or dress in public. I was tired of it all. 

The noise from the upper floor of the building grew louder as a balcony door was opened. Belatedly, I realized that I'd stopped at the Silver Key. Curiosity warred with decency. I concealed myself in the shadows as a man and a woman argued over a debt, and Lord Golden emerged to smooth things over. My heart jumped when I realized that his final words before returning to the party could be meant for me, even as I was chagrined at being caught at my spying. “Surely friends can find a warmer place to speak privately?” The Fool had asked. I shook my head to myself. She had been avoiding me for weeks. And where did she mean, anyway? The message was too cryptic. I decided that I would go to my meeting with Chade and confront the Fool about it later. 

The night was indeed a bit chill, and I walked more briskly the rest of the way to the castle.

Chade was waiting for me upon my return to the workroom. He was reading a set of scrolls and looked up when I entered. I tossed a bit of sausage to Gilly and set the rest of the food I'd pilfered down on the table. Bread, cheese, and sausages were simple fare, but delicious.

”What do you think this mark is?” Chade asked, pointing to a squiggle on one of the maps set out before him.

I stared at it and squinted, “Hm. Maybe it's just a mistake, or the artist's mark?” I could see no reason for that strange shape to be in the middle of what I perceived to be the ocean.

”Or a whirlpool, or a change in the current, or an island, or a good fishing spot.” Chade listed, “I can think of many things but decide on none of them.” He pushed the paper aside, “Ah well. Returned from your sojourn into town, have you?”

”I have.” I confirmed, not bothering to ask how he knew I'd gone, “I went to see Hap. It'd been a while, and I wanted to see how the lad was getting on.”

”Oh? And how fares the foundling?” Chade queried.

”Well enough.” I settled into my chair, “Apparently he's been allowed to work a bit more with the journeymen. How did your meeting go?”

”Well enough.” Chade echoed, “If you don't count Lord Blackwell raising a fuss about his taxes going to feed the witted staff, and his wife shrieking about a witted maid that apparently bewitched the Lady's dog into biting her on the hand. Duchess Faith was there also, insisting that the Narcheska's challenge could be nothing but a plot to lure the Prince and his nobles away from the keep for slaughter as revenge for our victory in the Red Ship War. I don't blame her after the way that her father died, but her old prejudices are annoyingly stubborn. I heard that Lady Celerity might journey here from Ice Town to add her voice to the mix as well. You were promised to her at some point, if I recall.”

”That was years ago, and not of my choosing.” I reminded him, “If you're planning to solve another problem by marriage, don't bother. She's happily married and I'm not interested.”

”Tut tut. So defensive, Fitz. Is there some lady that you've your eye on? Not still pining after that candle maker girl, are you?”

”Molly, and no.”

Chade sniffed, “Alright, alright. We'll stick to business. There's no need to be snippy. Anyway, you would know what happened at the meeting if you'd bothered to listen in.” He continued before I could defend myself, “A few of the others added their objections, saying that the Outislanders should not be trusted, and the inland Duchies especially were opposed to the expedition, saying that their taxes were going toward a quest that would benefit them not at all.”

”How did you appease them?” I asked.

”I've invited them along, of course. Merchants and nobles all to engage in the forming of new trade partnerships in Zylig. Let them see how valuable this undertaking is. I also reminded them that if Chalced manages to defeat Bingtown, which it very well might, they are likely to turn their curved blades on us next, and they would not be above allying with the Outislands in order to pressure us from both sides. As they said, the Outislanders were our enemies not long ago. If we do not win them over now, it is not likely to take much to spark their interest in war again.”

I nodded, “Sensible. You're thinking ahead. But why not just ally with Bingtown anyway? Defeat Chalced and we need not worry about them allying with the Outislands.”

Chade raised his eyebrows, “Oh really? The Outislanders have no love of Bingtown, for whatever reason. If we chose to ally with Bingtown openly, they may very well ally themselves with Chalced just to spite us!”

”I suppose you're right.” I conceded, making a sandwhich out of my bread, cheese, and sausage. I tossed another bit of sausage to Gilly.

”I am always right.” Chade huffed. “I have years of experience to draw on, and I know how to handle angry nobles. Show them an opportunity for profit. You'll see, Fitz. All will work out soon enough.”

I hoped that it would. Chade and I put talk of politics aside for a time in order to establish our Skill connection and practice having him join his senses to mine. It was frustrating to try again and again to establish that type of shared awareness. I would feel him travel along our connection, but stop short and our entire link would snap. The fifth time, I thought that I divined the reason. “Chade. It seems to me that you're holding back. Try opening yourself more.”

Chade growled a bit under his breath and tried again. I fed him a bit of Skill-strength as he did. Again, he fell short of achieving a strong enough connection for him to share my senses. Nighteyes and I were able to do this instinctively with the wit. The Skill was a different magic, but I felt that the principle was similar. Nighteyes and I had been open to one another. To travel to the other's mind and share their world one had to create a suitable bridge. A bridge, once created, could be traversed in either direction. Something was stopping Chade from opening his mind enough for him to leave it.

”You're still not open enough.” I advised quietly, “You don't need to be cautious. I won't be going into your mind at all. You'll be using me as an extra set of eyes, no more.”

Chade huffed, frustrated, and leaned back in his chair, pulling his hand away from mine and crossing his arms. “It's no good, Fitz. I've tried. It's not working.”

”It's not like you to give up so easily.” I commented.

”I haven't given up,” Chade snapped, “I am simply frustrated and making a tactical retreat before trying again. Let's try it again in the morning after we've both had some sleep.”

I wanted to pry, but I knew that more answers would be won by silence rather than my questions. “Very well. It's been a long day, anyway,” I agreed.

”Mm. Yes. That it has. I think that I will do some reading in my rooms and get some sleep.” Chade excused himself hastily, gathering up a couple of scrolls before taking his leave. I was left sitting alone in the workroom feeling puzzled.


	4. Gifts

_A ship was sailing. The sky was clear and the water was calm, but still the ship rocked and heaved as though caught in the most fierce of storms. The smell of the cold, salty air was tainted with the metallic smell of blood. It was seeping up from the planks of the deck as though the ship itself did bleed, but the blood was blue and thick. The creaking of the timbers sounded like wails of pain and terror, but there was no one in sight. Instead, snakes emerged from the cabin and the holds. They hissed and writhed, hundreds of them, growing as they absorbed the blood of the ship until they were as large as serpents. They wrapped around the ship and it's wood gave way to their merciless attack before it was devoured._

Sixty-seventh piece of vellum recovered from a chest in Buckkeep castle 

That night I went to Nettle in my dreams. I justified it to myself by saying that I should put forward more effort as a father, but perhaps it was the lure of the Skill itself that motivated me; having been unsuccessful in letting Chade Skill-ride with me, I found another way to immerse myself in the magic. Nettle knew nothing of my hidden motives, and neither did I, for at the time they were hidden even from myself. She was glad to see me, and I mentioned nothing of her gifts.

It was three more nights before they arrived, and I knew it when I had settled myself for sleep only to find Nettle waiting for me in my dream. It was a dream of the cold mountains I had journeyed in my search for Verity, and Nettle quickly fashioned herself a red cloak to match the scarf that she wore. The earrings dangled from her ears, framing her face charmingly. She bounded over to me, keeping her footing easily on the treacherous path, and threw her arms about my neck. I was surprised, and caught her about the waist. I was hugging my daughter, even if it was only in a dream. I inhaled her scent, wondering if she smelled of honey and flowers in real life, and tightened my grip momentarily before releasing her. She smiled up at me, and I saw that while her scowls could match Burrich's, her smile was all Molly. 

”Oh, Shadow Wolf! They're beautiful! Thank you so much! I didn't think that you remembered that dream we shared, but you did!”

”Of course I did.” I smiled, glad to see her so pleased, “And you're very welcome.”

”I've never had anything so fine!” She declared, “I will treasure them always.”

”Shall I send you a cloak to match?” I suggested, gesturing at her ensemble, “The weather is turning warm, but you would have the use of it for next fall and winter.”

Nettle shook her head, “Oh no, I couldn't possibly ask for anything more.” We fell into step beside each other, navigating the winding trail, “Besides, I hardly go anywhere to merit such finery. It's more practical to create such things in my dreams.”

”You will need a good winter cloak.” I advised, “It would not be wasteful if it were warm and sturdy.”

Nettle smiled, “You sound like my father.”

”Well, he's a wise man.” I countered.

”He is.” Nettle agreed, “Father was quite surprised when I showed him the gifs. I didn't tell him who sent them. Imagine explaining that it was someone I met in a dream! He began thundering about the house and complaining of forward young men.” She grinned, wickedly, “My brothers all teased me, of course, but they wouldn't understand.”

I frowned, wondering if Burrich had guessed who'd sent them and been upset. Did he think that I was trying to win Nettle from him with gifts? “I hope that I didn't cause any trouble.”

Nettle shook her head again, “Oh, not at all! He will just have to get used to it. He can be so stubborn. Mother will bring him around, anyway. She thought that the scarves were lovely.”

I wished that I'd sent something for Molly, too, but then sending gifts to another man's wife seemed a bit rude. “I'm glad to hear that.”

The rest of the dream passed pleasantly. I was glad that Nettle had liked her gifts, and she morphed the landscape around us into rolling hills with a castle all made from ice. We explored it for treasure and then relaxed atop one of the towers until we woke.

I opened my eyes to find that it was not yet dawn. I debated with myself, wondering whether I should go back to sleep for an hour or so, and then decided to get up. I had neglected many tasks in my outing the day before, and I resolved that I would attend to them that day. And so I rose, stretching and enjoying the absence of the aches and pains that had plagued me before the Skill-healing. I set some water to boil and then sat down at the desk to begin sifting through the piles of scrolls that Chade left out for me, but I did not set to work immediately. Instead, I thought back on my time with Nettle. Her happiness made me feel proud, as though I'd accomplished something grand by making her smile so. Would she still smile if she knew who Shadow Wolf was? I banished those thoughts by unfurling the first of the scrolls. It was old and brittle, and after a corner broke off in my attempt to straighten it, I decided to re-copy the contents.

Several hours passed as I poured myself into that endeavour. It was a map of the Outislands, and I took great pains not to introduce any error into the work. After a time, I began to realize how this map fit with the one Chade had been studying the night before, and I decided that I would make a larger copy as well, so that we might piece the two together. It was not to be that morning, though. I was not half way done the first transcription when the rising sun told me that it was time for weapons practice.

Despite the hectic preparations for our travel to the Outislands, my days had fallen into a routine of sorts. After weapon's practice would be Skill lessons. Chade and I had still not mastered Skill-riding, though Dutiful and Thick seemed to have gotten the hang of it. Thick was sent from the room while I placed a plateful of sweet pastries before the Prince. Thick immediately re-entered, demanding to know why he didn't get any. He sulked until Dutiful invited him to share. The two were to switch roles yesterday, with Dutiful riding with Thick. I was curious to know how long the two could hold the connection, but doubted that either of them would have the focus to sustain it for long with all of the commotion about the keep.

These thoughts entertained my mind as I dressed, then made my way down the stairs and out to the practice courts. Keen was ready for me, and I mentally prepared myself for another beating while fetching a blunted axe out of the shed. There were other partners scattered about the yard, and a company of guards doing drill. Some of the youngsters were also beginning to assemble for training as well. It was a fine day for it, and I was soon sweating despite the lingering chill in the air. I like to think that I was improving, for I was not hit quite so many times as I had been weeks before. Still, each bruise was a reminder that I could be missing an arm or worse. I resolved to work hard in the days left before our journey, and I wondered if I should not practice more with a spear or bow. In battle, one must sometimes make do with whatever is available. I shook my head to myself. We were going on a peaceful journey on what was likely a futile quest. Likely I really would be bored through most of it.

I was just preparing to strike at Keen when a shriek from my left distracted me and I was dealt a nasty blow to the upper arm. I winced and cursed, lowering my weapon and rubbing the hurt. Through squinted eyes, I looked to see what had caused me to lose my focus. Two ladies were standing on the path, and one was waving an arm frantically in my direction. When she knelt down and threw her slipper in my direction, I decided that I had a good idea who it was.

”There he is! I know it's him. Look at the guilty way he stands looks at us. Go get him, Lacey!” The other slipper followed the first.

I stood and stared as Lady Patience, my father's wife and one-time Queen-in-Waiting, began determinedly striding through the damp grass in her stockings, pausing to pick up her slippers, heedless of her finery. She had aged in the sixteen years since I'd seen her, but time had not diminished her spirit in the slightest. Lacey followed after her more sedately, the round old woman ever faithful to her mistress. The two dear old women were charging at me like a band of warriors and all I could do was stand dumbly. Keen was watching with interest, and some of the other nearby pairs had paused in their fighting to observe as well.

I had one good look at my step-mother's angry face before I had to shield my face from her slippers. I dropped my weapon and held up my arms, retreating several steps under the onslaught.

”Six!” _Whack_ “Teen!” _Whack_ “Years!” _Whack!_ “Lacey, get me some willow! I'll have him over my knee! See if I don't!”

The sight of a warrior in his prime quailing before the old woman's wrath had not a few of the men-at-arms laughing.

”Mistress, do stop! Those are your best slippers.” Lacey protested, gently tugging them from Patience's hands. She peered up at me and her eyes went wide, “Oh. Oh merciful Eda, it really is him.”

”You see?” Shrieked Patience, “When I first heard, well, 'he wouldn't dare!' I thought. He wouldn't dare do that to his own mother! But then I got that pile of scrolls and I realized that Burrich had the boy for years and I thought, 'well if anyone knew how to keep a woman waiting it was him' and I came all the way here, and what do I find? You come with me right this instant, Tom, or I shall give you a thrashing right here in front of all of your little friends!”

And so I had no choice but to be led away from the practice grounds. I think that Keen picked up my axe as I left and I made a mental note to thank him if I survived the upcoming scolding. Mindful of my manners, I offered her my arm, and she leaned on me as we made our way to her chambers. Her withered fingers had a vice-grip on my arm and she cursed at every step we climbed. Thankfully it was only one flight. As Lacey shut the door behind us, Patience rounded on me again.

”Well? You see your mother again after sixteen years and you don't even say good morning? Not a word? No apology for the years that I spent grieving for you?”

”I'm... I'm sorry, mother.” I stammered.

To my horror, tears welled up in Patience's eyes and she began to sob. I hurriedly stepped forward to comfort her and she whacked me solidly on the arm with her slippers as she wiped at her tears with the other hand. “Oh, a fine time to call me mother. How could you?” Then she dropped her slippers and seized me in a hug, “Oh my boy, my son, how could you?”

”I'm sorry.” I repeated, returning her embrace a bit awkwardly, “If I could have told you sooner, I would have... Perhaps I could have, but I was too cowardly.” I felt tears prick at the corners of my own eyes. Patience was so small and frail in my arms. She'd gotten old. 

”I buried you.” She sobbed, “You were so cold and I washed your body and I wrapped it for burial. I knew you couldn't be dead, I knew it, but you were. You were dead.” Then she smacked me again with an empty hand even as she clutched me to her with the other, “How dare you fool an old woman like that?”

”There was not a breath nor a beat of his heart in him, ma'am.” Lacy added, “He was certainly dead. No mistake.” She'd fallen into one of the cushioned chairs and was staring at us. Arthritis had gnarled her hands and without her ever present tatting, they folded and worried themselves in her lap.

Patience abruptly pushed herself away from me and glared fiercely. “You had better explain yourself, young man.”

The weight of what I had done to the woman finally settled on me and I sank to my knees before her. My mind was flooded with memories. Patience trying to get me to learn poems and mixing the words up, Patience gifting me with Smithy, Patience naming me Tom, seemingly so carelessly. “I'm sorry. Please believe me, if there had been any other way I would have done it. I have never forgotten how you threw apples to me in my cell. How kind you were to your husband's bastard. It was brave of you to defend me when no one else would. I would have spared you all of that hurt if I could have, I swear it.” The guilt that I had avoided for so long was a crushing grip on my soul.

Patience swatted me with a scroll this time, plucked from a table. “Get up!” She hissed, new tears beginning to slide down her wrinkled cheeks, “I won't let you make me feel sorry for you now. I won't.”

Feeling disoriented, I rose and I helped Patience to a chair. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and then blew her nose loudly. “I heard rumours that you lived. Whatever were you thinking, Tom? Pretending to be dead for so long without so much as a hint, and then I find out from the gardener's boy that you've risen from the grave. There are people who still want you dead. If you were going to be foolish enough to stop pretending now, you could have been courteous enough to tell me yourself! And don't think that you've won my forgiveness with those scrolls, either!”

”Perhaps we should have him start from the beginning, dear heart.” Lacy suggested, rising ponderously and fetching some brandy and cups.

”The beginning? It will take sixteen years to tell sixteen years!” Patience cried, “I could be dead by then!”

”Scrolls?” I queried.

Patience sighed at me, “Oh, alright. I suppose I simply must forgive you, lest I die in the night and you spend the rest of your life regretting that I'd not forgiven you first. But I demand an explanation, and I shall be angry with you until you've given me a full accounting! And Lacey will be angry with you too. You deserve it.”

”Very well,” I began but Patience cut me off.

”There's no need to tell me about what Regal and his men did to you. I saw the evidence myself and I was upset about it already, so I have no wish to do so again.”

”Very well,” I repeated. Such a long tale to tell. Did I have time to tell it? I had Skill lessons with the coterie and much work to do on translations of Outislander scrolls that might yield information about Icefyre. I looked into Patience's faded eyes and suddenly knew that those things were not as important as this. Had anything been that important in the last sixteen years that I could not have found the time to see her? I swallowed a lump in my throat and began my tale.

At about midday, we took a break for lunch and I drank my tea gratefully. I had reached the point in my tale where Verity had Skill-blasted Regal's coterie during my failed assassination attempt and imprinted me with the command to go to him. My voice was hoarse. Dutiful had Skilled anxiously to me, asking me why I was late, at some point in my tale. I had paused briefly to reply that I'd been delayed and would not be coming, at which point Patience narrowed her eyes suspiciously and asked, “Why do you hesitate, Tom? Are you hiding something from me?” I had not stopped since.

A maid knocked with a tray and Lacey answered, taking the laden tray from her and bringing it to the table. I poured more tea for us all. Patience took a roll of bread, but did little more than tear it into pieces on her plate. I could understand her appetite having fled, and I did not comment.

”It's all very well and good for you to start at the beginning, Tom,” Patience tutted, “But I am an old woman, you know. Allowances must be made so that I don't turn into a ghost and haunt you if I die before you finish. Tell me more of what's kept you so busy lately that you couldn't see your own mother.”

I bowed my head to the rebuke and took another sip of my tea. “Well, I traveled, and I lived quietly for a time. I took the name Tom Badgerlock and I fixed up a little cottage in the countryside. No one knew me there and I was able to let the past go for a time.” Hearing it now, I could find no good excuses for having kept my life a secret from her. “With wild tales of me still circulating and opinion of the witted so low, I tried my best to erase my old life. Eventually Starling, the minstrel, brought a foundling to my door and I had the raising of him for about eight years now. His name is Hap.”

”A grandson!” Patience exclaimed, “You kept a grandson from me as well? For eight years?”

”You can meet him, if you like.” I added, quickly, “He's a good lad. Hard working, earnest.”

”And what sort of a name is Hap? You should have chosen something more manly like Steadfast or Endurance! Or sweet like Tart or Berry!” She scolded, while picking up one of the little pastries from the tray and waiving it at me.

”I didn't name him. His mother did before she left him. It's short for Mishap.”

”Mishap? Awful name!”

”He was Raider-born,” I explained, “His mother hadn't wanted him. Starling found him searching for food one day and brought him to me when he was seven or so. I've had him ever since. He's apprenticed to Gindast at the moment.”

”Gindast? The wood worker?” Patience was disapproving, “I hope you've not been neglecting the boy's education. You should bring him to me for tutoring in art and culture! Why, Kettricken sent Dutiful to page for me in his youth. I know a lot about the teaching of young boys.” She paused and then stared at me in silence for a moment. Then she tossed her tart aside, to land with a plop on the carpeting, and nearly toppled her chair as she flung herself from it to embrace me again. “Oh, my boy. I knew you were alive. I just knew it. All grown up and me not there to witness it.”

She clung to me for a time, sobbing and sniffling wetly, until Lacey gently pried her off of me and led her to her bed.

”But I haven't heard the rest of the story!” Patience protested between sniffs.

Lacey turned out the covers and helped Patience into bed, “He'll come back and tell the rest. I'll make sure of it.” She assured, giving me a meaningful look.

I nodded and rose, “I'll come back. I promise.” I hovered near the door, awkwardly, for a time until Lacey waved a hand at me to dismiss me. “Sleep well...” I murmured, letting myself out of Patience's rooms. I sighed and leaned back against the door for a moment, shutting my eyes. Why had I put off telling her for so long? Time had just gotten away from me, and I hadn't really thought about it, I realized guiltily. My thoughtlessness had hurt the old woman badly. It seemed like a pattern in my life: leaving Molly, barely seeing Hap, not even attempting to contact the Fool during the years I'd spent at my cottage. Even Chade and Kettricken, I had ignored. My only company had been Starling's occasional visits for the longest time, and even those I had not sought out. Even now that Molly and Burrich knew that I lived, I had not attempted to contact them. What was wrong with me?

I made up my mind then that I would make amends with the Fool. I turned up the stairs and made my way to Lord Golden's chambers. I rapped once, waited, and then entered. The chambers were empty; doubtless he was at the Silver Key again. I considered going to see him there, but decided against it. The place would be full of Lord Golden's friends and hangers-on. There was no place for Tom Badgerlock there. Shutting the door behind myself, I looked around the room. The place seemed very nearly cleared of all of the ostentatious decor that the Fool had filled it with on a whim. Now that she entertained guests elsewhere, I supposed that she must have grown weary of it. I went to build up the fire in the hearth, but it was cold. She clearly hadn't been here in some time. Hesitantly, I looked toward her bedchamber. That old curiosity came back, and I knew that it was an impulse I'd promised not to yield to again. What harm could it do, if the Fool did not even use these rooms? Slowly, I crossed the room and tried the door. It was unlocked.

The Fool's bedchamber was as bare as the sitting room. Where there once had been paintings and tapestries, there were bare walls. The only signs of habitation were the pen and ink set neatly on the desk. I recognized the ink as the one I'd been sent to fetch in Buckkeep town and wondered again how the Fool had gotten it. Beside the desk were two small chests. I did not open them. Feeling as though I'd disturbed a tomb, I backed out of the room and shut the door behind myself.

How bizarre. Had the Fool well and truly moved out of Buckkeep castle, then? Without telling me? Had she moved in order to put distance between us? The thought hurt and puzzled me. We had not quarreled seriously, and our past differences over her concealment of her gender had been put behind us. Surely she would not go that far. The pen and ink were a sign that she at least still used the rooms occasionally. I decided that I would sleep in the adjoining servant's room tonight incase she came back.

I entered that room and shut the door, triggering the entrance to the spy labyrinth. Feeling drained, I made my way up to the workroom. The half finished copy of the map was waiting for me along with several new scrolls that Chade had left out for my perusal. I attempted to concentrate on reading, for a time, desiring a more passive occupation, but over and again my mind would slide away from the tales of Outislander warriors and settle on some ghost from my past. How long had Molly grieved for me when she thought me dead? How long had Burrich drowned his sorrows in a bottle? Should I have gone back to them and disrupted their newly formed marriage, or was I right to have left them in peace? Kettricken must have struggled at first, to bring the Six Duchies into order. I could have helped. No. I shook my head. I'd had enough of politics, intrigue, and court life. Was it wrong that I'd stolen those few years of peace for myself? But what had I done in those years? My mind spun.

Desperate to free myself from those clawing thoughts, I took clean parchment and began to write. I wrote furiously, page after page, detailing those years of my life to myself and hoping to find some sense in it all. I did not bother to sand my pages and immediately consigned them to the flames. I had no care for whether the words were even legible, and they spilled from my nib like a gushing torrent. Half formed thoughts and disjointed fragments of tales cluttered the pages in a sprawl of ink and smudges. I could not get the words out fast enough. Thoughts formed a sucking whirlpool in my mind that I could not escape, and they funneled out as scribbles of ink. I wasted a lot of parchment and ink in my mad writing.

Eventually, I stopped. I stared down at the last half filled page before me, my pen slowing to a halt. I crumpled it disgustedly. I made tea and then I took up my earlier work re-copying the Outislander map. The transcription work served as a suitable distraction from my guilt and my self-loathing. It was simple, but required concentration. I did more work that afternoon and evening than I had in the last two days, and only emerged from my near trance when my stomach began to protest at going unfed. Wondering how long I'd been drawing, I descended the stairs once more.

By the lack of light filtering into the stairway through the thin slits in the walls and by the lady's dresses when I emerged into the world once more, I judged it to be late evening. Some revel had apparently taken place that had much of the castle's population laughing and singing drunkenly. The rest were all scurrying after their masters and mistresses, tidying up after them and gathering dropped fans or handkerchiefs.

After my hours of isolation, the noise and bustle was disorienting. I realized that I had not rejoined Patience after her nap. Somehow I was unable to feel guilty. Only drained. The brief flash of realization flickered and then drifted off in the fog that seemed to surround my mind. I could not put myself through such an emotional ordeal just then, and so I did not. I did not have the energy for it. I walked the halls, the conversations of the passers by sounding oddly muted to my ears. Vaguely I recall seeing Starling and Cockle walking together and singing some bawdy tune. I did not greet them and they did not appear to notice me.

The noise of the men-at-arms in the guard room was no better than the noise of the party goers, but at least it was familiar. I served myself some stew out of the pot and took a chunk of bread. Duff had learned from Cook Sara that the guardsmen preferred their food to be simple and plentiful. With a sigh, I sank onto one of the benches and ate.The familiar fare was comforting. Gradually the world came back to life around me, like a veil being lifted. Noises became sharper. I heard one of the guards giving descriptions of some of the Outislander women that he'd had the pleasure of meeting, and a handful of others guffawing and hooting appreciatively. An older bunch was discussing the fuss caused by Lord Blackwell earlier regarding the witted, and how the inland nobles were all far too concerned with their primping and posturing these days to have any understanding of politics. A few of the other guards voiced disagreement, saying the inland duchies had the right of it; the Outislanders were savages and the whole engagement between the Narcheska and Dutiful was probably a trap. One heavily bearded man whose name I could not recall pointed out that the Outislands had no actual ruler, and that wedding the daughter of one clan could not guarantee that the others would forever honour the alliance. Another man jokingly suggested that Dutiful wed a daughter from each clan, and the conversation degenerated from there.

I finished my food relatively undisturbed, save for a tankard of ale nearly overturning onto my lap. I rose when I'd finished the last of my food and slipped quietly from the room. Blade Havershawk caught my eye as I was leaving and inclined his head. I nodded back in acknowledgement and left. 

The corridors had emptied only slightly in the time I'd been eating. Still, there was ample room for me to walk without bumping into anyone in the wide halls. I was making my way back to my lair, and was just about to turn a corner when I saw a familiar pile of lace and ribbons nearly draped over a second, rounder figure equally done up. The two staggered along in a weaving line with Lord Golden drunkenly singing a tavern song and gesturing grandly with one arm, the other around the larger man's shoulders.

”Wha' prettier thing than when the moon did float, in a cup of brandy? It was the eyes and the hips and the sinful lips, of the girl that served me...”

I was puzzled as to what my friend could possibly gain from pretending to be drunk and hanging off of who appeared to be Lord Thistle. When had he come back to court? The man's arm was around Lord Golden's waist and I knew that the Fool would ordinarily find such contact distasteful. I drew closer, curious and a bit suspicious.

I followed for a time, keeping just far enough back to make it seem as though I were on my own errand. We passed the servant's stair that I would have taken to my boyhood room, and we passed the stair that I usually took to Lord Golden's. Where could they be going? Lord Golden stumbled several times, but it was not until the Jamailian accent began to falter that I perceived that the Fool's drunkenness might not be an act.

I strode to the pair and tapped Lord Thistle on the shoulder. “Excuse me, my Lord. Is everything alright?” I inquired. 

His little eyes widened to see me as he turned. Lord Golden slid free from his grip and tipped into a wall, though somehow remaining upright. The Fool squinted at me and demanded, “What are you doing out of the water?” as Lord Thistle straightened his coat and huffed, “Just seeing your former master to his rooms.”

”I'll take care of him.” I said, leaving no room for argument as I took hold of the Fool's arm and slung it over my shoulder. Something in my gaze or tone must have prevented the other man from arguing, because he backed out of my way.

”It was a jest, you know.” The Fool informed me, with the solemnity of the drunkard, “I know you aren't a ship; you haven't got any sails.”

I wondered how my day had ended up as such a mess. “Come on, let's get you to bed.” I suggested, pulling the Fool along back towards the stairway. That would be an adventure and then some.

”Good-bye!” The Fool called, waving to Lord Thistle.

The stairs were indeed an adventure, and I cursed as we made our laborious way up them. The Fool was no help at all, and probably would have killed us both by a tumble down the stairs if I had not caught us.

”Why in Eda's name did you get so drunk?” I grumbled. Half-way there and not dead yet, I consoled myself.

”I expect it was all the drink,” surmised the Fool. I could smell the spirits on her breath.

”Yes, I agree with you there...” I was frustrated, though, if asked, I could not have said precisely why. We stumbled into Lord Golden's bare chambers, and I deposited the Fool into a chair before shutting and barring the door. The Fool watched me, humming the chorus of the song she'd been singing.

I made sure of the door before going back to the Fool. “What were you thinking?” I demanded, kneeling down to unlace her boots. I tugged them off more roughly than necessary.

The Fool pulled the first freed foot up underneath her on the chair while I worked on the next. “I was... gathering information on the current attitude of the nobility,” she informed me, grandly. Despite her care with her enunciation, the words were a bit slurred and I could detect an accent that was not Jamailian nor of any of the Six Duchies. I pulled the last boot off and tossed it next to its mate.

”I'm quite sure that you would do a better job of that sober.” I frowned, “And what were you doing with Lord Thistle, anyway? I doubt he had any useful information to impart.”

The Fool looked puzzled by my question, “He was taking me back to my rooms.”

”He was going in the wrong direction for that, Fool. And I do not trust that he did not have any 'Jamailian' motives for getting 'Lord Golden' drunk.”

”I know that.” The Fool huffed, “Of course I do.”

”Then what would you have done if he'd tried something?” I demanded, “I'm certain that at some point he would have realized Lord Golden was not quite what he seemed. Or does he know too?”

The Fool looked scandalized and then offended, “No-one knows, Fitz. Or at least no-one would know if you didn't know. And no-thing would have happened.”

”You can't be so naive, Fool!” I scolded, undoing buttons and shaking the Fool out of her jacket. “Some men don't bother to ask permission before taking what they want.”

”You're taking my clothes off, Fitzy.” The Fool pointed out in a sing-song voice. I threw her jacket over her head, disgustedly. It was a fine thing, dark blue with golden embroidery and more lace than was decent on a man, in my opinion.

”You're ridiculous.” I went to the hearth and went about setting a fire. 

The Fool gave a muffled huff and fumbled the coat off, pulling strands of hair loose from her ribbon. “You didn't come to see me!” She accused.

The fire was started and I poked at it a bit. It would be a while before the room warmed properly. “What are you talking about?”

”The other day when you were lurking!” Her frown faded to a look of perplexity. “Or should I say night... I might say night. The other night when you were lurking!”

”Yes, well, your invitation was a bit too cryptic for me. Come on, you're going to bed. I'd like to talk with you, but it can wait until you're sober.”

”I don't want to be sober.” The Fool declared, and sprang from the chair. Her grace was ruined by a stumble on the landing, but she recovered well enough and knelt on the floor to dig in the drawers of her writing desk. “Aha!” She smiled as she withdrew a bottle of apricot brandy and offered it to me, “Have some to drink and then we can both be drunk.”

I took the bottle from her and set it on the mantle, then I hauled the Fool to her feet and began escorting her to her bedchamber. I did not slow my pace for the Fool and as a result I essentially dragged her. She leaned on me docilely as I got the door open, not offering the slightest bit of help. The room was dark and the emptiness of it was still shocking. I dumped the Fool on the bed. “I'm going to light a fire in here, so that you'll be warm, and then you're going to sleep.” I was annoyed and it showed in my voice.

”You don't love me.” The Fool observed, crossing her legs and sitting atop the covers.

Not this again. “You're my closest friend,” I said, “even if you are being an idiot.”

”Actually, you don't really love anyone,” she stated, shaking her head, “You're simply unable to. Poor Fitz.”

I frowned and turned to face her, the fire beginning to smoke in the hearth, “What's that supposed to mean?”

”It means,” she explained, holding one finger aloft in a familiar manner, “that you don't love anyone. It isn't your fault. You can't help it. You hardly see Hap, you couldn't bring yourself to love Starling or Jinna, though to be fair, they were annoying so that might not count. Chade thinks of you as a son and you only regard him with suspicion. You gave up on Molly and on seeing your daughter. You can't even form an attachment to a horse.” 

As the Fool listed these supposed examples to me I felt my outrage build. If this conversation had taken place a decade or two ago, I probably would have punched the boy Fool in the mouth. I'd learned restraint with age, and I'd also learned that my friend was not a boy at all. Those facts did not stop me from clenching my fists, though. The Fool continued on, oblivious to my anger.

”Then there's Lady Patience. I'm sure that you feel guilty now; you didn't get rid of your guilt, but you probably didn't spare her more than a few wistful thoughts in the last sixteen years. Oh, and there's Dutiful. You know, Kettricken knows that it was your body in her bed that night. There's even a future where you marry her. I could tell you how to make her fall for you, only I'm afraid that it might be a bad idea – Wait! Stop!”

I had dragged the Fool off of the bed by the collar of her shirt and was holding her on the tips of her toes. She shielded her face with her arms. Disgusted with the both of us, I lowered my fist and tossed her back onto the bed. I turned on my heel and strode toward the door.

”Wait! Fitz, please. I'm saying this wrong. Please don't go!”

I looked back at the Fool. She was a comical and rather pathetic sight draped in Lord Golden's extravagant finery without her shoes or jacket and without Lord Golden's usual demeanor. Her Jamailian face paint was smeared on the right side and her hair had fought free of it's restraint.

I left the room, shutting the door behind myself. I put another log on the fire and then I sat in my usual chair, staring into the flames. If I went up to the workroom, Chade might be there. I did not want to explain the source of my agitation to him and I knew that I was not an accomplished enough actor to hide it from him. I thought that the Fool might come after me, but there was silence from the other room.

Of course I loved people. Hap was not of my blood, but he was as good as a son to me. Burrich, the man who raised me; Molly, my first sweetheart; Nettle, my daughter; Patience, my step-mother, Dutiful, my prince and my son. I loved them all, and I did not need the reminder of how I'd failed them. Was that how the Fool saw me? Some heartless beast incapable of love? My anger grew as I dwelt on it, and I rose from my chair. I folded the Fool's jacket, I set the boots upright next to the Fool's chair, and I put the brandy back into the desk drawer. That was not the only thing secreted away in it's depths, and I satisfied my curiosity out of spite. A plain leather case of carving tools, not as fine as those she'd given to Hap. Another bottle of brandy, half empty. Two pots of ink. It was a strange assortment, and it seemed to me that they'd been hastily tucked away, which was unusual for the tidy Fool. The charm Jinna had made for me was there; if it had ever been disassembled, I could not tell. I was halfway through the contents of the drawer when my fingers brushed something irregularly shaped and wooden. A carving. I withdrew it and my breath caught as I beheld Nighteyes in his prime, a dead rabbit at his forepaws. It was exquisite and my heart clenched to see my wolf so perfectly captured. I turned it in my hands, examining it carefully. Nighteyes looked back at me. 

It was some time before I could bear to set the carving down and resume my investigation. There was a letter addressed to Amber which I read shamelessly. It was from Jek giving some account of the war in Bingtown and asking after Amber's health. She had a few less than pleasant things to say about me in it, and I felt a bit affronted that a woman I'd not even spoken with for a great length of time could dislike me so. I refolded it and set it aside. The next thing my fingers found was familiar to me. It was the Rooster Crown, wrapped in it's cloak of fine cloth. I set it aside without unwrapping it. There was very little remaining. There were several charms that I recognized as Jinna's handiwork which were meant to attract birds, and several packets of herbs which I opened and identified as various remedies for restless sleep, and several to increase alertness. Some were more exotic than others, but all were familiar to me. Curiosity more roused than satisfied, I began the careful process of returning the contents to their proper places in the drawer. 

I spent the early part of the night in my chair, dozing for short stretches and wakening with a cricked neck and a stiff back every time. Once, I woke to a series of thumps from the Fool's bedchamber and was alert, wondering if I should enter. I decided to let her have her privacy when I heard the sounds of retching followed by sobs. Some minutes later I heard a chair being drawn back and silence for a time.The dim glow of the fire cast strange shadows in the bare room. I kept my vigil until it was more morning than night, then padded quietly to my servant's chamber. I shut the door behind myself and opened the entrance to the spy passageways. I slept the rest of the night in my bed, or rather Chade's old bed, grateful that the day was done.


	5. Bargains

_...possibly hundreds. They were hollow, or nearly hollow, but somehow remained upright and walking. Skin and bits of flesh hung from yellow bones, sagging from cheek bones and baring sharp, jagged teeth. Some appeared to have no bones at all, and were merely animated sacs of skin suspended by I know not what. [illegible for seven or eight words] mostly without eyes, but more horrifying were the ones that looked out from their shells, unable to beg for death. From the gaps in their torn skin, I was able to perceive that they had neither hearts nor stomachs, nor any other organs, but still they devoured the flesh of any who came near, as though to fill up their empty selves._

_In their midst was a dragon. Its maw was made of their hands, and its body from the hearts, guts, and bones missing from the horrible army that surrounded it. Their hundreds of eyes looked out from its face. If any were unfortunate enough to touch the creature, they were quickly absorbed to become a part of the writhing mass of flesh that composed it._

\-- Seventy-first piece of vellum recovered from a chest in Buckkeep castle

I woke late for weapons practice, and I was unable to summon the motivation to join the rest of the men-at-arms. I was sure that Keen would understand after the spectacle I had provided the morning before. I lay in bed, staring at the dusty hangings and thinking that they needed cleaning, but knowing that I would not take the task upon myself.

The last day's events descended on me not long after after my eyes had opened, and I mourned the loss of those brief, comfortable, carefree moments. Yesterday had been a disaster. Patience had found out that I was alive. She had forgiven me, but the guilt for all of the pain I'd caused her ate at me like a festering wound. I had no idea if Molly had forgiven me. Burrich had told her that I lived, but I had not yet spoken to her in person. Would she appreciate that I was giving her space, or would she take it as an insult, thinking that I had no regret for all of the years I'd gone without returning to her? The Fool's words came back to me, and I allowed anger to join the guilt. I hadn't stayed away because I didn't love them. I just wanted to live a quiet life for a time, and Molly had Burrich. I could not have come between them. I could still have been a part of their lives, some part of me whispered. I shook my head. It would have been too difficult.

How dare the Fool accuse me of being incapable of love? I snorted and scowled. Easier to be angry than to acknowledge that I'd been hurt by her words, or to acknowledge why they stung so sharply. The Fool had unerringly found and voiced every action, or lack of, that I had rebuked myself for or attempted to excuse. Were they not so accurate, I could have dismissed the insulting observations as drunken babbling. Instead I was forced to come face to face with my own failings and self-loathing. I did not think that my best friend could have thought me such a horrible person. Were my failings that obvious?

The bed hangings had no answers for me, but I stared up at them regardless. A black mood settled on me, displacing the last of the relaxation and peace of sleep. Apparently I was a heartless idiot, unappreciative of the regard that others apparently felt for me.

Recognizing the bleakness of spirit that threatened to consume me, I attempted to fend it off by turning my thoughts to the day ahead. I would have Skill lessons with the coterie soon. We were a sorry group, unable to function without the one we were meant to protect, but we were learning. I was the most experienced, and even I was a novice. My early education in the Skill had been sabotaged by my instructor, Galen, who had hated me for my illegitimate birth. His mistreatment of me had not only stunted my talent, but also deprived me of knowledge. I felt that lack keenly when I read what few scrolls remained in our once extensive library. I feared that we would soon surpass the limit of my small expertise and be delving into completely unknown territory. I wished that I had learned more of the Skill from Verity while he still lived.

The others were learning at their own paces. Thick could be instructed to do simple tasks, though he had recently begun to test the boundaries of my patience by refusing to cooperate or deliberately making mistakes. I suspected that he understood far more than he let on and I would not allow him to shirk his studies. Dutiful could often coax him to participate in lessons. It seemed that our plan to win Thick's loyalty had been successful, and we were relying less and less on gifts to keep the little man happy.

Dutiful was the best student by far. His natural talent was supplemented by a sharp mind and an eager heart, but his schedule was often the limiting factor in his studies. As the sole prince, he was expected to attend social occasions and court as well as be courted by his Duke's favours. Only with all six of the Dukes agreements could be gain the title of King-in-Waiting. The recent talks with the Witted, negotiations with Bingtown, and alliance with the Outislands had increased the need for Dutiful to gain the respect of his Dukes, but also increased the demand for his time. He had been present at all of the talks, was included in Kettricken's plans for negotiation, and had been very busy with preparations for the upcoming voyage.

Chade's progress was less promising. Though he had become less reliant on borrowed strength for the communication of simple messages, he had yet to completely lose his reliance on physical touch. We had also failed to complete our Skill-riding exercise. It puzzled me that Chade would not try to make the time for it, but I supposed that he was the busiest of all of us, with the management of his network of spies to attend to along with all of the other politics of the kingdom.

He would have many loose threads to tie off before we set sail. Gloomily I wondered what I left behind. Hap was settled in his apprenticeship now, Nettle had Molly and Burrich and would not miss the father she'd never known, Jinna had already left me. I had lost my old acquaintances when I had lost my life as FitzChivalry Farseer, and I had never made any new ones as Tom Badgerlock. Thick was, perhaps, the only one with fewer things to leave behind.

I startled when the wine rack moved and I sat up, expecting to see Chade. My eyes widened to see the Fool standing framed in the secret doorway, and I came to my feet. She looked haggard, but she'd made an effort to clean herself up. Her face was bare of paints for the first time in months, and her golden hair was pulled back into a tail. She wore a plain black tunic and leggings that made her paleness all the more evident, putting me in mind of her younger self despite the golden hue she'd acquired over the years. In fact, without the face paint or the elaborate mannerisms, she looked years younger. Almost unchanged from when we'd woken the stone dragons all those years ago.

”May I come in?” Her words were softly spoken, but they jolted me nevertheless, and I realized that I'd been staring.

”What are you doing here?” I blurted. I had known that the Fool knew of Buckkeep's secret passageways, but never had it occurred to me that she might set foot in them.

I noticed the Fool's fingers flex uncertainly on the side of the wine rack. She shifted her weight and cast her gaze aside. “I owe you an apology. I came to deliver it.”

When I'd been trying to apologize to the Fool, she'd avoided me. It wasn't fair for her to track me down in my assassin's lair. I felt a moment of anger that she could avoid me for weeks when I'd spoken in anger, insult me, and then enter what I'd come to view as my safe haven expecting me to forgive her. I was tempted to snap, but I quelled the impulse. The Fool's eyes were back on me, watching me nervously. Her body was angled and her weight was held so that she could slip back behind the wine rack with ease. It irritated me. Did she think I would attack her? I took a slow breath and exhaled. Hers was perhaps the only friendship I had left. “That wasn't what I meant. I was surprised to see you here, that's all.”

The Fool nodded and stepped in, shutting the entrance behind her. “It has not changed much since the night King Shrewd died.”

”Chade took you here?” I asked, moving towards the hearthside chairs and gesturing for the Fool to take a seat.

The Fool followed hesitantly, “He did. Yes. Fitz, I'm sorry.”

”It doesn't matter anymore,” I cut her off stiffly, “I suppose that my actions would appear cold from an outside perspective. I can't blame you for forming an opinion based on all you've observed.”

She made a small sound of frustration but sat. It was strange, seeing her in Chade's battered chair. I had expected her to appear out of place, having grown so used to seeing her surrounded by Lord Golden's finery. Instead, she seemed to belong in this room with it's dusty scrolls and strange assortment of flasks and powders.The dim light of the fire glittered off of her hair and highlighted the angles of her face. Her bare skin was smooth and an even, tawny hue, the exact same colour as her hair and eyes. Those unnaturally coloured orbs were fixed steadily on me as she spoke, “Please hear me out. I spoke without thought, but also without the intention of wounding you.”

I sat as well and sighed, “I just want to forget about it, Fool. I've been a horrible father and it was selfish of me to cut ties with those from my life as FitzChivalry. I know that, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life, so -”

The Fool gave a small cry and cut me off, nearly leaping out of her chair to grasp me by the shoulders. Her face was very close to mine and I was startled into silence. “Stop, Fitz, please don't think like that. You cannot possibly understand how it tears at me to hear you say such things. I never meant to put such thoughts into your mind.”

”I had already known them, Fool.” I frowned, pushing her back gently, “though I had not thought to hear them voiced by my closest friend.”

The Fool took a breath and looked pained. “Please hear me out,” she repeated.

I sighed, wondering why I agreed even as I nodded, “Very well.”

”I was unable to finish what I was explaining. I had not intended to tell you at all, but now that I've made such a mess of it, I feel it would be best to complete the tale.” She sat slowly, looking tired, “All of the things that I said... Do remember the night that Dutiful was conceived? You came to me wearing Verity's body as I was attempting to free Girl on a Dragon.”

I nodded, wondering where the tale would lead. That had been the night that Molly was lost to me forever. I had Skill walked and I had seen Molly taking Burrich as her man. I'd wandered the quarry with Nighteyes until we'd come across the Fool, chiseling futilely at Girl on a Dragon's feet. I'd felt sorry for the boy Fool, knowing that the dragon could not rise with the effort of a man's hands alone.

”You gave her your memories... the feelings associated with them, so that she might rise.”

”That is true.”

”I think that when you lost those feelings, it changed you. Immediately afterward you seemed detached, but I thought that perhaps it had been the shock of everything. I thought that surely when I found you again, you would have recovered, but you hadn't. You'd just... stopped.” The Fool looked at me with a tortured expression, “It's my fault. I was the one who wanted Girl on a Dragon to rise. You ended up paying the cost, as always, and I fear that I've robbed you of too much.”

My brow furrowed in confusion, “No, Fool. What I gave to her was... nothing pleasant. I gave her my pain. My hurt at losing Molly, my memories of Regal's dungeon, of Galen, my loneliness, my mother...” I was able to recall those memories clearly. I had not forgotten them by giving them to the dragon, but the feelings associated with them were gone. It was as though I recalled the tale of a stranger. I felt better for it, afterward. The loss of Molly did not eat at my heart, and I was able to sleep without nightmares of what Regal's men had done to me.

The Fool nodded, “Yes. I know, but I think that with that pain you also lost a part of your self. You could not feel pain for Molly's loss without having loved her. The same for your hurt at your parents having given you up. As for the others, when you dull your pains, you dull the joys as well. If I had not been chipping away at Girl on a Dragon, you never would have done it... thrown those bits of your humanity away. It's like you've been Forged, at least partially.”

That was the last thing that I'd expected her to say. Excuses about having had too much to drink, I had expected, or having spoken the words in anger. The word forged brought back memories of men and women who were no more than hollow shells of their past selves. Forged ones were invisible to my wit and my Skill; emptied of all that made one human and robbed of their connections to the world. Forged ones were driven purely by their immediate needs and were not above fighting one another to the death over a coat or scrap of food. I had seen Forged Ones. I had killed many of them. I was certainly not forged.

So why would the Fool say that? “I think that you're wrong, Fool. I've fought Forged ones; they're worse than beasts. One of them took a bite out of me.” I loosened the laces of my shirt a bit and pushed the fabric aside to bare the restored scar. “You aren't seriously suggesting that I'm like one of them.”

The Fool shook her head and then grimaced, “I don't mean completely, and I'm not sure if it was done in the same way as Forged Ones, but I've seen it before. A man, Kennit, the pirate king, he gave the memories of his pain to the liveship Paragon. I think that when you gave your memories to Girl on a Dragon, it rendered you unable to connect to the world in the same way.” 

I frowned and was about to object when Nighteyes's words came back to me. He'd stopped me from giving more of myself to Girl on a Dragon, saying that he had no wish to be bonded to a Forged One. I'd not understood him then. The Fool watched me steadily, her lips pressed together and an expression of regret on her face. I sighed again and bowed my head, resting my forehead on a fist. Did that mean that all of my failures had been the result of a boy's pain driven impulse? So young and so rash I had been. The Fool's drunken words had stung me deeply, but I knew them to be true. After I had given my memories, my pain had dulled but the world really had seemed less bright. Did this mean that I had no hope of ever being a better father? Of ever breaking free of the mistakes I seemed doomed to repeat? “Very well...” I said, slowly, wrapping my mind around what I'd learned, “Alright. I understand that you did not mean any insult to me yesterday.” 

I heard the Fool stand again and a moment later a gloved hand came to rest on my shoulder, “I'm sorry, Fitz.”

I shook my head and looked up at my strange friend, “It isn't your fault, Fool. What I gave, I gave willingly.”

”There is a way to fix it.” The Fool offered quietly.

”How?” I demanded.

She smiled thinly, “The first time I rode on Girl on a Dragon I spoke to Realder. It was Salt's coterie, but he was the one to give heart to the creature.”

The name seemed familiar, “He told you how to fix me?”

She shook her head, “Think back. Do you remember seeing into another place and time? I was, as I am now, a White Prophet. I, she, stood atop the pillar and announced to the people of that Elderling town, the quickening of Realder's dragon. Realder was her Catalyst. She loved him deeply and without restraint, but she knew that she must let him go so that he might enter the dragon and create the change that he was destined to. And he loved her as well. They said farewell that day and parted with both tears and joy. When I spoke to Realder, he told me that he wished to wear forever the crown that his beloved had worn. The Rooster Crown. That was the price that he named.”

”For my memories.”

”For your memories to be returned.” She gave a sad smile, “Theirs is a sad tale. I would have given it to him with no reward, but I was glad for his offer. I found the crown during my time aboard the Paragon. All that it needs are it's feathers.”

It occurred to me that I had those. Still secreted away up one of my sleeves. I said nothing of them. “I am grateful to you for doing so much but,” I hesitated, “I am not sure if I want those memories.”

The Fool looked down at me, her honey coloured eyes full of regret. “It saddens me to see you go through life like this, Fitz. But I understand. I will leave the choice up to you.”

I shut my eyes. Did I want those memories? Did I want to recall the pain and fear as I was beaten to death? The hopelessness that Galen had filled me with as he Skill commanded me to throw myself from the tower? Was it worth it to close the distance that I had placed between myself and the world? I opened my eyes again as the Fool resumed her seat, “I think that I would like to wait for a time before I decide. At least until all of this mess with the Outislands is finished. Perhaps, now that I'm aware of the problem, I can learn to work around it.”

”As you wish, Beloved.” The Fool inclined her head, looking doubtful. 

I changed the subject slightly with an admission, “When I was tidying, I put your brandy back in the desk drawer. The crown was there. Where have all of your other things gone?”

The corners of the Fool's lips twitched upward, “To places better guarded against trained spies. Some of it, anyway. Most has been given away, but I kept a few important things. Tell me, while you were digging through my things, did you happen to find a carving?”

My tidying excuse had been flimsy, but I still winced to have it seen through. Useless to deny it. “Nighteyes. It is beautifully done, you captured him well.”

Her smile widened and became more genuine, a light entering her eyes that I only then realized had been absent, ”It's for you,” she spoke with pride, “ I began working on it when I visited you at your cottage. I'd intended it to be a surprise, but you might as well have it now.”

I was stunned. When I'd held it in my hands, I had been reluctant to put that image of my bond partner back into the drawer. ”Thank you, Fool... I know no words to express it adequately.” It was a wonderful gift. Belatedly, my shame caught up with me. “I am sorry for going through your things.”

The Fool flapped a hand, uncharacteristically dismissive of my snooping, ”No harm done, I suppose. You are forgiven. I've come to realize that the occasional loss of privacy is one of the features that accompanies your friendship.”

Her forgiveness only made me feel worse, “I knew that you wouldn't like it. I was angry.”

”Think no more about it, dear Beloved.” She rose and planted a kiss atop my head before retreating to the fireplace. There she dippered some water into the kettle and investigated Chade's collection of tea herbs, picking them up and smelling them. She wrinkled her nose at several before selecting one and setting it on the table. “I am going to make tea. I'm sure that the Queen's good councilor would not object.”

It amused me to see the Fool making herself so much at home in Chade's den. “Surely not.” I agreed, “Would you like me to get some breakfast things from the kitchens?”

The Fool smiled at me, “That would be lovely, thank you, Fitz.”

And so I left the room and by the time I returned, my arms laden with bread, cold meats, and leftover tarts, the Fool had arranged the comfortable side of Chade's workroom to her own liking. The table was cleared of dirty cups and trinkets, the kettle was beginning to boil, and the chairs had been shifted so that we could eat and converse more easily. I wondered what Chade would say, and decided that it didn't matter. He'd offered me use of this room, and the Fool was my guest. She had relaxed in one of the chairs, her head bent over the back of it with her eyes closed, but she looked up at my entry and rose to help me with my plunder.

The simple act of setting out food together did much to close the distance that had formed between us, and I felt the weight of my black mood dissipate like a fog. In the back of my mind, there was still the guilt and the sadness, and also anger that my boyish impulse could have so affected me so many years later, but it was buried. The Fool had created a small bubble of peace in this room dedicated to death. It was comfortable, and the workroom seemed like a different space. The arrangement of the chairs made it seem cosier and more home-like, and somehow I felt warmer. We ate, though the Fool mostly picked at a piece of bread, and we talked of less serious matters. The Fool told me a little bit about the liveship Paragon, and I laughed at how he'd bullied the reconstruction crew that had been tasked with getting him sea-worthy again.

”And you carved my face onto a creature as petulant and moody as that?” I was incredulous, “The whole of Bingtown will run the other way if I ever visit there again.”

A laugh, “Well, he apparently considers himself quite the poet now, and he's in better spirits now that Althea's pregnant. I wonder if she's had the child.”

I could only shrug. It was odd, talking of people that I didn't know. People from the Fool's other life. An odd thought occurred to me. “Do you think that you will ever have children, Fool?”

The Fool's eyebrows made a leap for her hairline, and a bit of pink made its way across her nose, “A very personal question, Fitzy.” She cleared her throat and took a sip of tea.

I felt myself blush as well, “I beg your pardon.”

”Well...” The Fool set her cup down, “I think it most unlikely, given the circumstances.”

”Circumstances? You mean being Lord Golden? You could probably end the ruse easily enough.”

”It was more of a lack of circumstance that I was referring to, o' love of my life.” She raised her eyebrows again.

I choked on my own mouthful of tea.

”So easy, Fitzy.” She quirked a smile and passed me a handkerchief, “Really, it's for the best, anyway.”

”What do you mean?” I asked when I'd recovered.

The Fool opened her mouth as though to speak, but then simply smiled and shook her head. The smile looked a bit less merry to me. “Nothing, Fitz. You aren't going to be dressed like that all day, are you?” She queried, raising a speculative brow at my wrinkled clothing.

I looked down at myself and sighed. I was curious, but while I had no choice but to accept that the Fool was a female, I still had trouble fully assimilating this new version with the Fool I'd always known. Some topics just made me uncomfortable, so I accepted the distraction, “No, I just hadn't gotten around to dressing yet.”

The Fool snorted but did not seem overly displeased and went to rummage through the wardrobe.

”Chade's robes are in there.” I advised her, “My clothes are in the chest.”

The Fool paused then turned and grinned wickedly at me before throwing the doors of the wardrobe open. “My word!” She exclaimed at the musty trove, “He still wears these things?”

”Not to my knowledge,” I answered. 

The Fool tutted and shut the doors to the wardrobe before descending on my clothing chest while I looked on, amused. She quickly assembled an armload of garments and laid them out on the bed for me as though she were my valet. She raised her eyebrows at me and I rose, shaking my head. She gave me my privacy while I changed into my drawers and leggings, but appeared again to lace up my tunic and help me into my overtunic. I was unaccustomed to being helped to dress and found that my efforts to assist got more in the way of the Fool's deft hands, so I submitted to her straightening and fastening and tugging. Lace appeared and my belt was tied. By the end of it, my face was red but I grudgingly admitted that I was better turned out than my usual efforts would result in, and I was not too uncomfortable.

The Fool nodded approvingly and then produced a handful of sticks and beads from somewhere. She shook them free from the tangle they'd fallen into and they were revealed to be the charm that Jinna had made for me. The Fool handed it to me, “You should wear this. I know that Chade is confident that no one will attempt to harm you, but it never hurts to be doubly sure.”

I took it, bemused, “Are you dressing me for court or for battle?”

”Both.” The Fool responded with seriousness, “There are serpents in this sea of politics, and if you fall beneath the waves, they will surely devour you.”

I frowned, “Well, that has always been true I suppose. Though I felt safer when I was just Tom Badgerlock.”

”They'll sink the ship to get you.” The Fool advised, appearing to look through me for a moment. Then she blinked and her lips bowed into a smile, “I've outdone myself, I think. Very nice. The only thing you need now is a shave. I should have thought of it before you were dressed, but I got a bit carried away.”

”You always insist that I shave.” I complained without rancor, fastening Jinna's charm about my neck, “What if I decided to grow a beard?” The Fool had gone still again, like a deer who cannot decide whether or not to flee. She stared at me, wide-eyed, and then turned her back to me hastily. I snorted, “Surely it wouldn't be that bad.”

The Fool made a sound in the back of her throat, “Beneath your collar, Fitz! Please,” she begged.

Realizing my error and recalling the Fool's earlier strange reaction to the charm, I tucked the beads beneath the fabric of my clothing. Then I remembered Jinna's reaction and paused, blinking and momentarily speechless. Surely not. I decided that I was better off leaving that thought alone and secured the collar of my tunic once more.

The more one tries to avoid a thought, the more persistent it is. The Fool shaved me, protecting my clothing with a clean looking rag from the work table. I was grateful, since I had never had the patience to do the job without several cuts. The Fool worked with focus and was always careful to avoid cutting me, but I still could not relax. Something was wrong. My eyes told me that it was my childhood friend before me, but my perception of her had shifted and it was as though I saw a stranger. Similar to the times when I would be suddenly aware of the Fool's inhuman colouring or the odd way her hands attached to her wrists, I was abruptly aware of other things. The Fool was scentless, but I could smell the flowery scented oils combed into her hair as she leaned over me and her ungloved left hand was gentle as she ran her thumb along my jaw to check for stubble. I saw my friend grown to a young man, but my knowledge of her gender was like a pebble in my boot and impossible to ignore.

Again, I was struck by the strangeness of it. We had slept back to back any number of times, made crude jests, had wild adventures. I was surprised to feel anger. Not for being lied to, I had accepted that, but somehow I felt cheated. I examined the feeling cautiously as the blade moved with careful precision under my chin. I recognized it as being similar to the anger I'd felt when I realized that King Shrewd was ill. This was not the way that things were meant to be. The Fool was not supposed to be a woman and I was angry with myself for being so aware of it. I shifted in my agitation and the blade nicked me.

The Fool exclaimed and pressed the edge of the rag to the small cut, “I didn't mean to do that. Are you alright?”

I nodded brusquely, “Fine. It's just a little cut.” I brushed her cool hand out of the way to hold the cloth myself, hoping that none of Chade's strange powders or potions had contaminated it. When I pulled it away there was only a small spot of blood. “I've given myself worse cuts and in greater number.”

A nod, “That is true, but I am still sorry. Is everything alright? You seemed restless.”

”Just not used to taking my time with a shave,” I explained as a half-truth. The Fool tutted but did not press.

The small, sharp bite of the shaving blade had startled me and scattered my thoughts. I did not attempt to gather them again. Better that they lay discarded to be blown away by other concerns. I was shaved and my hair was groomed by the time Chade entered his den. His eyebrows raised at the sight of the Fool lounging in his chair, teasing Gilly with a bit of sausage. The little ferret was dancing and leaping.

Chade cleared his throat, “So. This is where I find you, Fitz. And you have a guest. What goes on here?”

I realized guiltily that it must be time for our Skill-lessons. The Fool answered for me, “Tomfoolery,” and tossed the bit of sausage to Gilly who 'killed' and ate it. Despite her relaxed pose upon the tatty chair, I sensed a change in her demeanor. Her ankle was propped upon the opposite knee in a most unladylike manner, and her arms were draped over the arms of the chair, her body language open and confident. Nevertheless, she felt more closed and guarded.

Chade snorted and addressed only me, “Well if you find that you can tear yourself away, Fitz, you are late for our lessons.”

”I'll go to the tower room now.” I promised, rising from my chair.

The old man grumbled, “You may have the leisure time to sit about and play like children, but you might be more considerate to those of us with work to do.”

”My apologies.” I accepted the rebuke, and tried to share a glance with the Fool. She was watching Chade. 

As I watched, she rose smoothly, long limbs loose, and offered a polite smile to the Queen's councilor. “Good morning. I hope that I have not in any way inconvenienced you by intruding on Fitz's time. I would like to beg a few moments with you, if you would allow it. There are things that we should discuss.”

My interest was sparked immediately. Never had the Fool, to my knowledge, sought Chade's company before. My gaze went from one to the other of them. Chade cut a striking figure. His tall, thin form was wrapped in expensive looking fabrics that made his hair not grey, but silver, and the green of his eyes shine like the jewels in his ears. No longer the royal assassin only, but trusted and respected advisor to the Queen, he wore his jewels and silks like armour. The Fool, in contrast, seemed almost bare without Lord Golden's exotic garb. Nevertheless, she had the bearing of a nobleman or even a king, as she met Chade's gaze evenly.

Chade huffed, “As though I have nothing better to be doing.” He glanced my way and dismissed me with, “Go on, boy. I'll follow in a moment. Doubtless it will take that long just to get Thick to focus.”

I hesitated. My curiosity was almost unbearable and I longed to witness their conversation, but the Fool made no move to speak on my behalf and Chade's desire for me to leave was plain. I gave them a nod before entering the secret passageways. Knowing that Chade would be listening for my footsteps, I walked a way down the corridor and waited. Then, I turned back and returned to the entranceway, treading carefully so that I would be undetected. I stood in the darkness, still and as silent as I could manage. I hoped that the dust would not make me sneeze. Their muffled voices reached me, but they were faint and I had to focus to pick out the words.

”...no knowledge of politics. Do you imagine that they will be content with imaginary trade agreements and distant profits for long? The Red Ship War nearly beggared us!” Chade's deep voice, gone slightly gravely with age, was lecturing.

”A beggar would not turn aside from a sure chance for coin. Bingtown is a wealthy trading town and at least two of your duchies have no love of Chalced. I am not proposing war. Their duke is paranoid and near mad in his obsession with battle. If he were removed, it is possible that things could be ended swiftly and with great benefit to all. Even the Chalcedeans, for the most part, have no love of their leader.”

”Fah. You've been encouraging public support for Bingtown for months and yet you've financed most of the preparations for the journey to Aslevjal. Surely you know that we can take no public action in the Bingtown matters until our alliance with the Outislands is secured. Now, did you have something important to tell me or just more vague _feelings_? Come to tell me that I should have the pork for lunch to put the world on a better path?” I was surprised by Chade's antagonism. He had never minced words with me, but to make mock of the Fool's belief was more than his usual surliness. I felt a resurgence of guilt at having called it madness. Mockery was perhaps kinder than dismissing it entirely.

The Fool answered seriously, “No matter what happens on Aslevjal... I have come to ask that when the time comes, you do not order Fitz to do anything against his will.”

I could hear the scowl in Chade's voice as he replied, “Fitz is loyal to me, and he is loyal to the Farseers. I do not need to resort to orders or manipulations to know that he will do his duty.”

”Nevertheless,” I heard the Fool's voice travel across the room, “I would have your word.”

”Would you. We don't even know if there _is_ a dragon under the ice!”

”Regardless of what we find, I would have your word that you will allow Fitz to do as his judgement bids.”

There was a small moment of silence and I heard Chade change his tactic, “You are not as foolish as you would have me believe. You would not ask a favour without being prepared to offer something in exchange. What is it?”

I heard the sound of something heavy being shifted on the work bench. It could have been one of the mortars. Then I heard the sound of liquid being poured. It was not brief, so I surmised that the container must have been larger than a cup or any of the mortars. Shortly afterward there were a few small splashes and then silence before the Fool spoke, “I will serve you as I served King Shrewd. But only once. You may ask me to see for you and I will give you what information is to be found.”

Chade responded immediately, “What makes you think that I would be interested in your silly prognostications?”

”What this offers you is only the smallest glimpse.” Another small splash. It came to me that the Fool was dropping small stones into the scrying bowl, “An inkling of one of the possible futures. How strange it must be, to live in only one moment. I can tell you all of the possibilities and I can tell you how to increase their chance of coming to be.”

I had long wondered at Chade dabbling in the magic of scrying. It had seemed at odds with his usual scorn for anything that could not be classified as a science. Then I realized that it was not. Chade reveled in cause and effect with his potions, powders, and politics. To understand how the minute actions of an individual could shape the future would appeal to him, and I knew that he considered the offer in the silence that followed the Fool's words. I was not sure of it, but I sensed that the offer was a large one from the Fool. I wondered if I should feel gratitude that the Fool would go to such lengths to protect my freedom or if this was, in itself, an attempt to control my decision.

”And if I said that when the time comes for a decision to be made, _we_ would decide then? Would that satisfy you?”

”If that is your offer then it will not trouble you to give your word that you will not order Fitz to do a thing against his judgement.”

There were loopholes. He could threaten me, bribe me, even beg me, and it would not be classified as an order. I knew it and I knew that Chade knew it. Did the Fool not realize it?

Chade considered it, and must have come to the same conclusions that I did. Nevertheless, he was wary and sounded almost bitter as he agreed, “I accept. You have my word.”

”Thank you.” The Fool did not sound happy.

I frowned to myself as I quietly retreated from the entranceway and made my way through the passages. It was tempting to stay longer, but Chade was not likely to take the Fool's offer immediately and I needed time to reach the tower.

I did not know what to make of what I had just heard. I touched a hand to the cold stone wall as I made my way. A part of me felt jealous that the Fool would offer such a service to Chade and not to me, her supposed Catalyst. She had never offered to shed any light on where my decisions might lead or what I might do to better my life. All I got were riddles and more questions than answers.

Then, there was the other side of the bargain. Why would the Fool agree to a bargain that Chade could so easily slither out of? Perhaps her indulgence the previous night had left her mind slower than usual. I suppressed a swell of anger at the two of them: the Fool for thinking the bargain to be necessary, and Chade for thinking it was not. Did they both think me so mindless that I would not refuse an order that went against my better judgement? I was offended and it frustrated me that I could not vent my anger without revealing that I'd been spying.

Another thought occurred to me. Chade had been the one to sneer at the idea of a White Prophet, deriding it as madness and foolishness, yet he had not demanded gold or information instead of accepting the Fool's offer. Was it curiosity? Did he think so little of my ability to go against his wishes? Even if he had, he could still have wrung some more substantial reward for his word from the Fool. She had apparently provided much of the wealth that financed our journey, and she'd been cultivating contacts among the nobility. Both coin and information should have been more important to Chade than something that he described as insanity.

The passageway was dark and the light that filtered in through the slits in the walls was dim. It was a cloudy day, then. I thought guiltily of the weapon's practice that I'd skipped, and still more guiltily that I had not returned to Patience. How much of my neglect could be blamed on the memories I'd given to Girl on a Dragon?

It was useless to wonder and too late to fix the wrongs I'd done. I set aside my guilt and turned away from the feeling of hopelessness that threatened to engulf me. I kept both at bay by clutching my anger to me. I was angry that secrets were still being kept from me. I was angry that both the Fool and Chade dismissed the fact that I had a mind of my own. Then I shoved my anger down, as I pushed open the entrance to the tower room.

Thick was busy enjoying a pastry when I entered, but Dutiful looked up, his face lighting into a grin, “Tom! You came! You were late, so I thought perhaps you would be too busy again today.”

It felt nice to have someone be so pleased to see me. As he smiled up at me, I was struck again by the Farseer blood in his cheek bones and my younger self in the shape of his jaw and his nose. After my first shocked glimpse of my son, I'd come to see him as the sum of all of his features, as Dutiful. This was my son, and aside from our private Skill-lessons months ago, since Thick and Chade had joined us I had not made any time to spend with him alone. We had both been busy, and it had been enough to me that I had been instructing him along with the others, but I wondered now if I should not have done more. If what the Fool had said was true, then I would need to start putting forth more effort. I smiled and ruffled his hair. His eyes went round and his hands flew to his hair. “I'm sorry about yesterday, Lady Patience came to court and decided to give me a talking to.”

Dutiful flattened his hair and grinned at me, “I heard about it. I wish I could have seen it! Did she really go after you with her slippers?”

”She did.” I confirmed, “Charged right into our weapon's practice.”

Dutiful chuckled, “I'll bet the others went running. She can be fearsome when she wants to be. Did she take it alright?” He frowned, “It wasn't good of you to hide the fact that you still lived.”

I bowed my head to that, “You're right, and I know that now. She's forgiven me, but I suspect that I'll be feeling her wrath for a while.” I slid my chair back and took my seat, “As for today, Lord Golden and I were chatting and I lost track of time. My apologies.”

Dutiful shook his head, “I understand. Thick and I didn't mind waiting, did we, Thick?”

Thick looked up from his pastry at the mention of his name, crumbs sticking to his lips and chin, “More for Thick.”

”That's right, Thick. You can have my share.” I smiled at him.

I was lucky that I had made my retreat from my spying when I had, because Chade had not been long behind me. He emerged from the passageways and dusted off his robe, grumbling about the cobwebs. I looked at him with my brows raised in query, but he ignored my unspoken question and dropped into his seat at the table. “Well. Now that we're all here, perhaps we can get some work done,” he said, giving me a pointed look as though I had been the last one there.

I agreed without comment, and put aside my worries to focus on our lesson.


	6. Negotiations

_...with petals as red as a rose's but as large as a man's hand grew in the shade of a great old oak. It was a sturdy tree and the sunlight that reached the flower was filtered by it's branches and leaves, but so were the heavy rains and the snows of winter, and the trunk of the tree shielded the flower from the harsh winds and storms. So, the flower did not wither no matter how thick and cold the snow and ice became, and with each summer the flower grew larger. The old oak grew as well, but soon it's leaves became sparse and its branches became brittle. The flower grew and, tempted by the sun, began to push through the branches and into the full light of day. It was lovely in the light, breath-taking in its beauty, but having grown so long in the dappled light filtered by the oak, it was not used to the direct light of the sun. It dried and it's red petals and great green leaves crumbled into dust._

\-- Seventy-third piece of vellum recovered from a chest in Buckkeep castle

Patience had not been pleased that I'd failed to return the night I'd found the Fool stumbling, drunk, through the halls. She cried and she threatened to un-forgive me, but then she hugged me and told me that I looked so like my father, and she was too happy that I was alive to be angry. She then gave me the task of sorting a pile of feathers by size and by colouring to keep my hands busy while I continued my story of the last sixteen years. I did not finish the pile before I had to halt my tale and excuse myself. Chade had demanded my assistance that evening and I had other duties to attend to as well. Patience told me that I had sixteen-years to take care of my own tasks, but Lacey was the voice of reason in helping me escape. I gave Patience a hug and Lacey a grateful smile as I left their chambers.

I had gone to see her immediately after the Skill lesson. Dutiful had expressed an interest in coming with me, but Chade firmly reminded him that he had another clothes fitting and then was to be included in a discussion with some of the young nobles and merchants who hoped to establish trading partners in the Outislands. It was to that meeting that I was now headed, not that I would be a participant. I would be a silent observer within the walls.

I made a brief stop in the kitchens for bread, cheese, and wine before re-entering the secret passages. I wondered when I would have time to take in a proper Buckkeep meal before my weeks of hard bread and Outislander fare would begin. It had not taken me long to get used to the rich, well-prepared food, and I was sure that I would miss it. I slipped back into and maneuvered my way through the dark and musty passageways until I was situated behind the wall of one of the many conference rooms of Buckkeep castle. The space was narrow and I had to lean a bit awkwardly to look into the peephole, but I would not stand for the entire duration of the meeting. I often wondered how the nobility had time to talk for so very long about almost anything at all. I had a candle lit on a convenient holder, built and situated just so that the light would not show through the peep hole, and I kept my food on a handkerchief on my lap. As comfortable as I could be, but wishing that I had a cushion to sit on, I settled myself for a long and boring evening.

The nobles came in groups of threes and fours, already chatting amongst themselves. I noticed that Lord Golden had started a trend: their manservents seemed well-built and a few carried swords at their hips. Lord Golden himself entered alone, but did not seem bothered by it. His face paint created a pattern of delicate scaling around his eyes and down his cheeks that was likely concealing the dark circles I'd noticed on the Fool's face that morning. The black tunic and leggings were gone, replaced by a splendid white and gold confection of a doublet and a shirt with almost comically voluminous sleeves, tied at the wrists with cuffs of extravagant white lace and golden ribbons. Beneath that, his white trousers were just as voluminous and for a moment I had mistaken them for a skirt. They were pleated and her footsteps showed glimpses of gold within the folds. His hair was, in contrast, left loose without any adornment at all and seemed to flow into the golden embroidery of the doublet. The young Jamailian strode confidently into the room and slid gracefully into a seat beside Lord Thistle, who'd abandoned the conversation he'd been keeping with Lord Blackwell in order to gape. I startled when the Fool's eyes found and met mine concealed behind the wall before Lord Golden turned away, smiled at his new companions, and inserted himself into the conversation. It was mostly centered on the festivities of the night before. I narrowed my eyes when Lord Thistle lamented the fact that they'd been interrupted. Lord Golden laughed charmingly and apologized for having imposed on Lord Thistle, assuring him that it would not happen again.There was one rather snide comment from Lord Fairheights about what was rumoured to have happened at Bresigna Manor, but Lord Golden was not baited, and instead complimented the quality of Buck's spirits.

The merchants that arrived were dressed almost as splendidly as Lord Golden, with rich fabrics and heavy jewels, but their garb spoke more of wealth than taste. Their number was substantial, but not equal to that of the assembled nobility. I made note of who sat next to whom and the possible alliances. A portly man with pearl buttons took a seat next to Lord Golden, but seemed more interested in the conversation that Lord Sharp was leading. Another group of merchants settled on the other side of Lord Blackwell's group and conversed between themselves about which goods would be worth more in the Outislands, with the consensus seeming to be grain and what food could survive the journey. This led to a few of the inland nobles in Blackwell's group joining the fray, adding that it would then, of course, benefit the coastal duchies most of all, since their goods would have to travel the least distance. Fairheights made another jab at Lord Golden, saying that Sandsedge brandy would surely be a valuable export from the inlands, given how popular it seemed to be with foreigners. Lord Golden parried back that he doubted savages would appreciate it, and that perhaps they might do just as well with something created on Fairheights own holdings. The nobles gradually joined in, the merriment of the night before forgotten in favour of the sniping and politely disguised barbs being exchanged. This bared to me the divide that was plainly developing between the duchies, and I wondered whether Chade was correct in assuming that all would be contented eventually. Independent of place of origin, many of the nobility seemed hostile toward the merchants, and I wondered if they resented sharing a table with those of common blood.

All quieted and rose from their seats when Kettricken, Dutiful, and Chade entered. Kettricken was dressed as simply as ever, in her usual white and purple. Dutiful appeared to be wearing the fruits of one of his many fitting sessions, and was dressed in Buck blue clothing, unadorned by jewels or precious metals. It was the cut and the crest over his breast, as well as the small tasteful additions of lace that distinguished him as a member of the royal family. Chade was likewise dressed in blue, but had followed the tradition of elaborate dress that Regal seemed to have amplified during his brief reign. He had emeralds in his ears and at his throat, and managed to carry the many layers of his ensemble in a way that looked dignified rather than gaudy. Kettricken bade everyone to be seated. I ate my bread and cheese while I listened to the introductions and to Kettricken's thanks to those assembled for their enthusiasm and contributions toward making the voyage to the Outislands a success.

”It is my hope that this alliance by marriage of my son, Prince Dutiful, to the Narcheska Elliania of the Outislands, will bring not only peace between our lands, but also prosperity. Those of you assembled here will be forming the first bridges between our people and beginning the exchange of goods that will eventually become the exchange of customs and a complete union between the Six Duchies and the Outislands. Councilor Chade will speak briefly to address some of the concerns that have been raised, and the remainder of our time will be open to you to pose your own questions.” Kettricken sat and nodded at Chade to speak.

Chade's announcements were not new news to me and I finished my food while he spoke. A second ship had been hired to accommodate the additional members of our journey. We would stop first at Zylig on the island Skyrene where we would be accommodated by the Boar mothershouse. Chade urged everyone to be prepared to buy their own provisions and not to expect our hosts to feed or provide for us, since it was not Outislander custom to rely on others, and to do so would make us appear weak and foolish. The Prince and those accompanying him would sail on the Tusker from Zylig to the Narwhal mothershouse in Wuislington while those interested in forming trade agreements would remain in Zylig.

The first questions from the assembled merchants and nobles were frivolous ones. How many trunks would one be allowed to bring aboard, would the food be tolerable, and how large were the rooms? These were mostly put forth by Lord Golden and followed up by comparisons to the grand ship he had supposedly taken from Jamailia. An amused glint in the Fool's eye told me that she was enjoying the chance to irritate Chade.

It was irritating me too, after the first few minutes; the less time I had to spend sitting on the cold stone floor between the walls, the better. It must have irritated Lord Elfric as well, because he interrupted with, “What I would like to know, is why so many of those assembled here are from Bearns, Buck, and Rippon. The contacts made in this voyage will likely be valuable. The coastal duchies already have an advantage by their location. Why give more of their lords and merchants the contacts as well?”

Chade answered easily, “We have attempted to give equal opportunity to each duchy. Unfortunately, space is limited and many of the merchants from the inland duchies were reluctant to take on the expense of the voyage.”

Blackwell spoke up, “It seems to me that the inland duchies already had to finance a war that affected us not at all. It only seems fair that we be compensated for it.”

Fairheights countered, “Yes, the war affected the inlands not at all, while the coast has had to bear the expenses of rebuilding.”

Chade cleared his throat, “This alliance is about peace, not war, gentlemen, and once trade has begun to flow between the Six Duchies and the Outislands, there will doubtless be other voyages. I suspect that many from Tith, Shoaks, and Farrow are merely biding their time until they can gauge the climate of the market. After all, if their goods are valuable in the Outislands, they will surely find people willing to pay for them.

Dutiful sat attentively, giving his attention to each speaker, but I sensed his growing discomfort and boredom. His new clothes were itchy and he would much rather be reading or going for a ride. I sympathized, and I reached out to Skill to him. I let him feel my mind connecting with his before actively Skilling so that he would not startle. _Dutiful, your walls are lax._ I reminded.

Dutiful replied quickly, and I sensed that he was grateful for the distraction, _Sorry, Tom. I'm just so bored and frustrated with this. I don't want to be here._

_It is your duty as prince to learn how these negotiations are done._

A mental sigh, _Yes, I know that. And so I am here and I am learning, but that doesn't make this any less boring. They're all so selfish._

_I know. It -_ I cut myself off as I felt a large presence and the sudden severing of our connection. Dutiful gasped in his seat but covered it up with a cough and waved a hand apologetically when asked if he was well. “Fine, please don't concern yourself,” he said, and I knew the message was meant for me. I did not attempt to Skill to him again, and he did not relax his walls. I feared that I knew what had happened, but I would have to wait until the meeting was done to ask Dutiful.

Meanwhile, the portly merchant voiced his own question, “About the taxes on our trades... With all due respect, what guarantee is there that after paying thirty percent of our profits we'll have enough left to live on? Travel by ship to the Outislands is expensive, as I'm sure you realize...”

Lord Golden looked surprised, “Thirty? The Most Noble and Magnificent Satrap Cosgo and his father Esclepius asked fifty percent of the Bingtown Traders' profits...”

It went on and on, each trying to get a little more for himself and his fellows. Lord Golden said little during the more serious debates, but would occasionally say something that would prompt a reaction. It seemed that rather than his usual tactic of encouraging the expression of ugly opinions by agreeing with them, he seemed to be deliberately disagreeing to provoke argument. Since Chade and Kettricken seemed focused on maintaining peace and coming to agreements, I did not see why the Fool was not doing more to help them rather than make the task more difficult. It did give me a better feeling for each noble's stance, though, which was helpful. It seemed that Chade had been partially successful, in that everyone seemed to be in favour of undertaking the voyage and building an alliance, despite the quarreling over profits. 

I was cramped and stiff by the time the meeting was adjourned. I half worried that the cracking of my joints as I rose would give me away, and I already longed for the day to be over. Still, there was no rest for me that day. I allowed myself a quiet sigh and made my way back to the work room. Chade would want to discuss our impressions of the meeting, and I would ask him to arrange a time when I could ask Dutiful what had happened. I knew not whether Chade had sensed what had happened, but I knew that his curiosity would be roused by my request. Better than voicing my fears directly and having them dismissed as childish imaginings.

The tower room was empty when I arrived and I anticipated that Chade would be delayed for some time, but did not want to risk missing him by leaving. I ladled some water into the kettle and began the process of making tea. While the water heated, I selected several scrolls to read, set them on the desk, and cut a new pen. When my chipped cup of tea was made, I settled myself in to wait. I had just begun the third, a Skill scroll about guarding one's mind, when Chade entered.

”That damned friend of yours is a nuisance. Did you see the way he riled Fairheights and Robins? It was a miracle that they didn't come to blows.”

I looked up from my reading and rose to pour Chade a cup of tea, “I'm just glad that it's over. I think that the granting of land to those whose holdings would need to support export to the Outislands was what finally settled it.”

”Yes, I agree. Greedy leaches. No, not tea, boy. I need something stronger after that ordeal. Of course, they'll pay for the lands in taxes in the long run, but the initial gain and the opportunity for profit seems to have pacified them for now.” Chade scowled at his chair and then pulled it back into its usual position before dropping into it with a groan, “All that remain are the quest and the marriage. Their profit depends so heavily on the successful completion of Dutiful's quest, that I am confident the nobles and the dukes behind them will support him, if not for loyalty then for their purses.”

”For loyalty, too, I should think. But, before we discuss the meeting, did you notice anything strange by Skill during the meeting?”

Chade furrowed his brow, accepting the measure of brandy I'd poured for him, “Strange? No. Not that I can recall. Why?” He seemed irritated at having to answer in the negative.

”I Skilled to Dutiful to remind him to keep his walls up. There was a strange presence and then our link was severed and Dutiful had set his walls. I'd like to ask him what he sensed. Is there any time when I could meet with him?”

”Why not ask him during our Skill lesson tomorrow? Any knowledge to do with the Skill surely affects us all.”

I nodded, “Perhaps that would be wise.” I could have elaborated, but I held my tongue.

I was rewarded, “Well? What do you suspect, boy?”

”It could be nothing,” I began, “but I recall feeling that presence before. I think that it was the Bingtown dragon, Tintaglia. I think that she showed herself to Dutiful and Thick using the Skill as they attempted to Skill walk, and I think that she tried to get into his mind again today.”

Chade narrowed his eyes, “So, what, you think this Tintaglia is not only Skilled but is trying to communicate with Dutiful?”

”And me, and Thick, and you, too.” I added, “You said that you dreamed of whirling, copper eyes staring at you. Her eyes are like that. Some times I have touched minds with her while she was unaware and observed her hunting or relaxing, but whenever she has been aware of me she has demanded to know where Icefyre is.”

”Hmm...” Chade sipped his brandy, “Do you think that she could be a threat?”

”I know little about dragons, but she seems very powerful. According to the Fool and to some of the scrolls you've obtained, she's been destroying Chalcedean ships.”

Chade sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, “Will her supposed presence interfere in our ability to communicate by the Skill?”

”I think it depends where she's focusing.” I decided, “If she's hunting or fighting or sleeping then it shouldn't be a problem.”

Chade huffed, “Yes but we have no idea when she could decide to turn her sights on us. What are the chances that she could abandon chasing Chalcedeans and decide to confront us directly? Does she know where we are?”

”The elderling, Selden, would be able to tell her where Buckkeep castle is, but I know not if she can sense where we are through the Skill or not.” I frowned. Chade's questions were making me uncomfortable, yet I could not say why. Since my Skill healing I had been able to sense Tintaglia, but I had always avoided considering that she might be a danger. To avoid Skilling could possibly hinder us and to ignore her could very well anger her. Would she go so far as to fly from Bingtown to Buckkeep to get her answers?

Yes, probably.

But the young dragons were unable to hunt for themselves, and she had agreed to kill the Chalcedeans to defend the humans in her territory. Pitiful creatures. She was spraying a ship with a rain of acidic poison, sending the crew leaping into the water or falling to the deck in agony. A successful kill, but very little sport in it and no meat either. Their arrows clattered off of her hide uselessly.

I shook my head, closing my walls more tightly. Just thinking of her had made me aware of her. Somehow our minds had become linked in a way that I did not understand. It filled me with fear. Could she see through my eyes just as well? Know my thoughts? If she was already targeting other members of the coterie for interrogation, could she find Nettle through me as well?

Chade had been speaking, I realized, and focused on him. “... yet, so perhaps she will not attempt it at all. If she is interested in Icefyre, then we must be careful to guard all thoughts of him from her. If we are lucky, we will be able to complete this damned quest with her none the wiser.”

”If Icefyre actually exists and we kill him, do you suppose that she will take vengeance on us?”

”I doubt that it will come to that. How anything could survive so long encased in ice is beyond me. Still, if we guard all thoughts of Icefyre's location then she will never discover that the deed was done.”

At least the word 'Aslevjal' had meant nothing to her when I'd told her, ”And she will be mateless, and there will be no new dragons born...”

”Precisely. And good riddance.” Chade said, emphatically. “Even if that were all it were about, as your friend seems to think, the world is better off without them. As it is, Dutiful has given his word that he will place the head of that damned Icefyre on the hearth of the Narcheska's mothershouse. The alliance and peace in the Six Duchies depends on it.” He met my eyes as he spoke those words and I forced myself to hold his gaze. No direct order, but he was already using my loyalty to the Six Duchies to sway my decision.

I shifted the subject back to it's original track, “I'm not sure what she is capable of with the Skill, but to avoid Skilling would set us back.”

A snort, “Well, one dragon-slaying mission is enough for one lifetime.”

”I am not suggesting killing her!” For some reason the idea repulsed me, “I just want to know what we should do.”

”I will look into it. See if there isn't a way to block our minds but leave them accessible to members of the coterie. You could help, you know, by going through what scrolls we have left.”

I nodded, that was a task that I was accustomed to. “I will.”

”That is all that we can do for now, Fitz.”

And I was to do it in my free time. Apparently Chade thought I had too much of it after finding the Fool and I playing with Gilly. I bowed my head to his decision even as I wondered when I would find time to sleep. For the next several hours, we went over the meeting in exhausting detail, comparing our impressions of various nobles and combing through the debates that had occurred.

”Do you think that you've really won the inland duchies over by making this into a journey for trade agreements?” I queried before sipping my tea.

”There have been rumours of continued discontent, but I think that the intrigue goes deeper than that. I will not taint your judgement by sharing my thoughts with you just yet. I would like for you to spend some time observing Lord Blackwell for me. I can tell you that he is from Tradeford and is very traditionally minded. He has been raising the most fuss about the witted, and about the voyage to the Outislands. If he is all bluster and selfishness, then very well, but I fear that there may be more that goes on. Worse, he may simply be the distraction. I would like this all figured out before we depart. Find out what you can for me and then report.”

More time spoken for. I nodded my agreement.

It was late by the time we finished, and Chade left for his own bedchamber some time after that, having wanted to utilize the workroom to set a few powders to drying at the hearth. He chatted to me as he worked, and I passed him the tools and jars that he asked me for like I was a boy again. I eyed the small crucibles warily as I readied myself for bed, but they sat peacefully by the flames and I gradually relaxed. Grateful that the day was done, I turned back the covers and lay down only to be startled by an uncomfortable, hard lump under my pillow. Frowning in the dim firelight, I sat up and reached beneath the pillow.

My fingers knew it as soon as they grasped it, and I pulled the carving of Nighteyes out and held it on my lap. My wolf looked back at me through perfectly carved eyes. The Fool must have snuck back into the workroom and left it for me. I ran the pad of my pointer finger along Nighteyes's snout and up between his ears. What would he be doing now if he had lived? Hunting, perhaps, or already eating a rabbit. He would sense my mind reaching after his and make some wry comment about my clinginess. I missed him more than I would miss a limb or one of my senses, and to think of him still made the space where his mind had joined mine echo and ache. There was fondness there now, though, along with the pain.

I gave the carving a final stroke before setting it on the bedside table and laying down for sleep.

I dreamed that I was hunting that night. The earthy smells of the forest in spring filled my nostrils as I sniffed the ground. The night air was crisp and my sight was sharp even in the dim light of the stars. I froze at a sound behind me. Clumsy crunching of twigs and the rustling of branches. I was ready to dart away when Nettle emerged from the trees.

I relaxed and flicked my tail.

”Shadow Wolf! I was looking for you. You're all wolf today!” She crouched down and scratched behind my ears, “You are a handsome wolf. Shall we go hunting? I used to have dreams of you hunting when I was young.”

And so we did. She conjured herself a bow and quiver of arrows and we hunted. I sprang on a rabbit and was impressed when she took down a young buck. I ate well in my dream of the warm and bloody flesh, and she sat beside me with a small picnic of apples, bread, and cheese. She spoke and I listened, having no human mouth to form words. I think that she appreciated being able to speak her mind, and perhaps she would not have divulged so much if I had not been in wolf form.

”I wish that I could always be dreaming, Shadow Wolf. It is so much more exciting than waking life.” She tossed her apple core on the ground some distance away and frowned at it, “I don't want to be a chandler and I don't want to just be killing time until being married off to some farmer.”

I licked one of my forepaws to clean it and watched her, letting her speak.

”It isn't fair! My brothers all get to choose where they will be apprenticed. Well, except for Chivalry. He's the eldest and will inherit our land and horses when father dies, but I think that he enjoys it. It is so boring here. I wish that something exciting would happen. Mother says that I should be glad to have a simple life, as though I would be content to clean wax and dip tapers until I wither up and die.”

I did not want Nettle to be unhappy. She was lucky that her life was simple. I thought of how life would have been different if I had not murdered Justin and Serene, if I had ruled at Buckkeep in Regal's absence. If Molly had come back to me and we had raised Nettle together, or if I had sought her out. If I had not gone to Verity, the dragons would probably never have woken. The war could have gone very differently. Things were better as they were. I shifted over and thrust my head under her arm, resting it on her lap.

She laughed and scratched my ears again. It felt good. “I know, Shadow Wolf. You are the best part of my days. Or nights, I should say.” She waved a hand at her apple core, and an apple tree began to grow from the seeds.


	7. Motion

_There was a woman on a cliff that overlooked a stormy sea. She was not of flesh, but made all of black stone and clear tears..._

Seventy-fourth piece of vellum recovered from a chest in Buckkeep Castle. Accompanied by a pressed yellow flower between several folded pieces of Bingtown-style paper.

The next day, I had a solution. The down side was that it was a solution that scared me, and I was preoccupied with it during drill and weapon's practice, so I made mistakes and walked away with more bruises than I'd become accustomed to taking.

Would Burrich and Molly resent me? Would they refuse and tell Nettle all so that she despised me? Should I ride down to their cottage and explain or should I send a message? Worst of all, would I be destroying my daughter's peaceful life?

I had risen early that morning, full of worry and confusion. Too many concerns had piled themselves up and they jostled for position at the forefront of my mind. I must somehow find time to spy on Blackwell and research the Skill without neglecting my other tasks. Always, that had involved me neglecting Hap or Dutiful, and more recently Patience, but I had vowed to do better and that meant that I must find time in other ways. Nettle I could speak with in my dreams, but she was unhappy at home and I knew of no way to comfort her. The rumours of my identity meant that even if I had been brave enough to, I could not call upon Molly, Nettle, and Burrich at their home without my name potentially causing difficulties for them. The Fool had always been able to make sense out of the tangled mess of my problems before, and craving the peace that I felt in her presence, I made my way back to Lord Golden's chambers.

I entered my small servant's room to blackness. The door was not cracked to admit any light from the banked fire and no friendly taper was lit to light my way. My presence in these chambers had become a rare thing, and somehow the loss of those welcoming touches saddened me. I felt my way through the room to the door easily enough; it was small and without clutter to trip me. My hand groped for and found the door.

It was early, but I had expected to find the Fool awake. She was always up earlier than I was. The other, less likely alternative was that she would still be abed after a late night. What I found was a combination of the two: the Fool was asleep, but she was curled in her cushioned chair. As often as we'd slept beside one another, it was not often that I would see her asleep while I had the advantage of full wakefulness. I froze. Should I retreat back to my lair or wake the Fool? Or should I stay and wait for her to wake? The Fool did not stir at my entry nor at my gentle shutting of the door.

She was wearing her night robe and her slippers were on the floor in front of the chair, her feet tucked neatly up on the seat. I walked silently to her side, intent on waking her but hesitating. It would be rude of me to wake her only to trouble her with my complaints, but she could not possibly be comfortable sleeping in such a way. Her head was at an angle that would have put a crick in my neck if I'd attempted it and her hands, still gloved, were curled close to her body. The gentle puffs of her breath made a lock of her hair sway.

I did not think that she had purposefully fallen asleep in her chair, but why not simply go to her bed if she was tired? Had she been waiting for someone? I could not recall agreeing to meet her here, and I did not think that she would meet anyone else in her robe. A cup of tea was mostly empty on the table, and it was unlike the Fool to be untidy. My assassin's knowledge made me frown at that and shift my attention from the woman to her cup and examine it, not touching it. It could be foolishness, or even futile since the most useful powders were colourless or could easily be disguised in a tea or wine. Still, I satisfied myself by looking. She had made only one cup, and the leaves left at the bottom were innocent enough. I recognized a lone leaf of carryme from my own use of the mountain herb and decided that the mystery was likely solved.

”Fool,” I shook her shoulder gently, “It's morning.” No response. “Fool?” I shook her a bit more roughly and she opened her eyes to blink at me groggily. For several moments, she appeared to look through me, eyes following some far off scene before she focused on me.

”Fitz...” She named me, frowning slightly as though puzzled. Her eyes wandered over my face sleepily. The carryme must have affected her more strongly than it would me and I thought that I should warn her not to try more than one leaf. Then she surprised me by sitting up and kissing me on the mouth. My shock was such that I could do nothing but remain unmoving. She moved as though to put her arms about my neck, and I finally had the sense to put my hands on her shoulders. To push her away, I thought, though I could not seem to make myself do it. I was saved from having to take any action by the Fool tugging at my collar. I panicked, but she was tightening the laces of my shirt and putting Jinna's charm safely out of sight. She sighed a small sigh as she pulled away, her breath tickling my lips.

”My apologies.” She said, hiding her face behind her hands, then combing the fingers back through her hair. It was messy, her cheeks were red, and her eyes were as black as mine.

This was worse than when Jinna had read my palm. It was the charm's fault, and she had apologized. She hadn't wanted to kiss me. Besides that, we were friends. Complicating that had never worked well for me. Still, she had teased me the day before. About the making of children. Did she...? I realized that I was staring and hastily straightened and turned away. If the Fool noticed my embarrassing reaction, she tactfully said nothing. “I'll make tea.” I said, hastily, and busied myself with that, my back to her.

She cleared her throat. “A fine idea. Excuse me.” I heard the soft rustle of her robe and her footsteps as she padded across the room to her bedchamber.

When she emerged, I had already made tea and she was dressed in Lord Golden's elaborate clothing. A young nobleman. “So.” She said, taking her customary seat opposite me, “I suppose that you came here seeking something. It is rare for you to visit since things have become so hectic.” Her words were formal, but she smiled like my old friend as she spoke them, with a slightly mocking twist to her lips that was made kinder by the fondness there.

I told her all with more detail than perhaps I would have, had I not been so eager to put the last few moments from my mind. She poured the tea and listened intently, nodding and asking questions for clarification when I paused.

”Well.” She said at last, running a finger along the rim of her cup thoughtfully, “Regarding Blackwell, perhaps I can help you there. As you've no doubt noticed, I've inserted myself into Lord Thistle's company. He's a rather pathetic creature. Eager to impress, he has been most forthcoming with gossip concerning those in his social circle. Including Blackwell. It interests me that Chade has found him to be a person of interest as well. I will tell you what I know. He is from Tradeford, an eldest son and quite eager to inherit from his aging father. He was one of Regal's strongest supporters, though of course he tries to brush that under the rug now, and he maintains a friendship with Duke Bright. He laments the changes that have been occurring in the Six Duchies and is all in all such a suspicious person that I doubt he is anything but genuine. I have kept an eye on him, but surely someone with an agenda would do better to keep it hidden.”

”It never hurts to be sure.”

”That it does not. If you need some time in his chambers, I am sure that I will be able to contrive some reason for celebration at the Silver Key, and he will, of course, be invited.”

”Thank you. It would be helpful.”

”You might like to pay a visit to the neighboring suites as well, if you have the time.”

I raised my eyebrows and asked, though I had small hope of a direct answer, “Why?”

”It never hurts to be sure,” The Fool repeated my words back to me, “They will be empty if you decide to investigate them.”

”I'll keep it in mind.” I lifted my cup and drank. The tea had a hint of fruit to it and reminded me of summer.

”As for your other problem, why not ask her to come here?”

It took a moment for my mind to catch up, “Nettle? No. She's better off away from all the doings at court.”

The Fool cocked her head, “But you said that she was unhappy. There is possible danger in the Skill current, perhaps even a physical threat. It seems to me that to have her brought to Buckkeep where she would be better protected is the best solution.”

I frowned, “Chade would begin manipulating things immediately. She is the heir if something befalls Dutiful, and Skilled besides. He would want her trained and to become involved in politics...” I shook my head, “He might even try to marry her off to some noble to gain political favour. I don't want her freedom taken away like that.”

The Fool looked sympathetic, “Kettricken would not allow Chade to have his way if you asked that she be allowed to choose her own mate. But to the rest, you are correct. She is the heir to the Farseer line after Dutiful. Keeping her ignorant of that will not change it. It will only make it harder should she need to step up.”

”I thought that you would be on my side.” I grumbled. It sounded childish even to my own ears.

”I am.” The Fool replied, holding my gaze, “It would not be so terrible a fate as you describe. What works for one person does not always work for another. Talk to her about it. If she says no, then you have your answer.”

”I'll consider it,” I agreed reluctantly.

And I did consider it. After drill and sparring, I walked across the courts, weaving my way between several gatherings of pages and harassed looking squires. The young ones were just starting with their first practice weapons, the eldest hoping to become full members of the guard. I'd been younger than them when I had first taken a life or fought in battle, but those had been different times. I sincerely hoped that they would never see more than an ordinary patrol. Where King Shrewd had made the Six Duchies into a fortress to protect his people, Queen Kettricken sought to form alliances and encourage trade to accomplish the same end. It was a reflection of her mountain upbringing, I thought. Still, Buckkeep had a military tradition, and lads were trained. There were even some women in the Queen's guard.

I leaned against a tree and pretended to watch a small group learning the rudiments of swordsmanship as I cautiously reached out with the Skill. _Nettle?_

The reply was immediate and had a tone of surprise. _Shadow Wolf! You do not often speak with me during the day._

_Am I interrupting?_ I worried, belatedly.

_Not at all,_ my daughter reassured me. _Housework does not require concentration. What is it?_

_Do you still want to be a member of the Queen's Guard?_

A pause in which I could sense her confusion. _Well, I do, but it's hardly possible, is it?_

_I wouldn't like for you to be in danger. You could be a Lady's Maid or even a scholar._

Nettle was not distracted, _Shadow Wolf, are you asking out of curiosity or are you saying that there is a chance I could actually get in?_

_If you sincerely wished it, I could put in a word for you._

_You could? Oh, but my father and mother would have fits!_

So would I, I thought. Would her joining the guard be any safer than giving her to Chade to do with what he pleased? Chade would at least protect her. _I'll see what I can do. Would you like that, Nettle?_

_Shadow Wolf, of course I would! When I told you all of my worries I never imagined that you could actually do something to help! I don't know what to say!_

_Don't say anything, yet._ I cautioned, _I cannot guarantee anything._

Curiosity. _How could you possibly arrange it, though?_

_I'm just a guardsman, myself, but I could still put forward a request. Are you sure you wouldn't rather do something less... dangerous?_

_How would being a maid or a kitchen girl or whatever else there is to do there be any different from what I am doing right now?_ I had an image of her doing laundry. _I could handle it. You've no idea how often I've thought of stealing one of my brother's clothes and running away._

_Well, don't do that. I'll see what I can do, but I make no promises._

_Thank you, Shadow Wolf! You've no idea how happy that makes me!_

_I'm glad._ I prepared to cut our connection, but she stopped me. 

_Shadow Wolf?_

_Yes?_

_If you are one of the Queen's Guards, and I begin training to become one too, do you suppose that I will finally meet you in person?_

The thought gave me pause. She would surely hear the rumours about my identity. Everything could come crumbling down. _Perhaps._ I hedged.

Amusement. _You are shy, for a man. Are you afraid I would think you ugly? Have you any scars?_

_Some,_ I answered honestly, _But I am not worried about that. I've been selected to accompany Prince Dutiful on his quest to the Outislands, so I may not see you before you arrive._

_Then I shall just have to arrive quickly! Hurry and ask permission for me!_

My daughter would never be a demure court lady, that was certain. _I will let you know when I have news. Good day, Nettle._

_And good day to you, Shadow Wolf._

So, my daughter wanted to be a member of the guard. Chade could arrange that and more, I was certain, but was it wise? The guards were rough men, and the training was physically demanding. What if one of them attempted to force themselves on her? What if she were wounded or killed in battle? What would Molly and Burrich think? Perhaps having her trained in the Skill would be better. She could serve the Prince without the need for physical danger, and she would hopefully be less vulnerable if she were trained fully. I was still reluctant to allow Chade the opportunity to interfere with her life. Would it be revealed that she was a Farseer? Would Chade expect her to be educated as a princess and wed off to some noble?

So, I had a solution but was not sure if it was for the best. I could tell her that I had failed. She would be disappointed, but her simple life would keep her safe.

It occurred to me, after a quick trip to the steams, as I walked the passageways to the seawatch tower, that I need not wonder what the best course of action was. Had not the Fool offered to see for Chade? I did not think that she would refuse me a similar favour unless she were still upset over my insult to her. Still, if it was only a delusion brought on by a sickness of the mind, would I be following advice that would lead to an unfavourable outcome? The Fool had yet to steer me wrong. The boy Fool had saved me from a poisoning by young Kettricken and had somehow known of Nettle's existence. What would have happened if I had taken the Fool's advice and not taken Skill lessons with Galen? That experience had nearly ended with my death.

I decided that there was no harm in asking, and so I mentioned nothing of Nettle to Chade after our Skill lesson. Dutiful had said little about the presence that had made him slam his Skill walls up during the meeting, other than that it had felt “large and powerful. It was instinct to try to hide from something that strong.” I was not entirely sure that he had said all he had to say on the topic, however, so I waited until after our lessons to speak with him alone. He had, he hoped, completed the last of his clothes fittings the day before, and so had scheduled an extra fencing lesson immediately after we'd finished, but he spared me a few moments. As was customary, the Prince was taught to fight as well as his soldiers, but was given extra lessons in history and strategy. Like our fathers, he would be expected to travel and to be able to negotiate any disputes that arose. He would also visit his Dukes and, as Kettricken insisted, the common people as well. The better to serve his kingdom.

”I've my lessons in Outislander grammar after that, and then in arithmetic right before dinner. I'm always distracted by hunger before that one is half through,” the Prince confided in me. “I'm about to go on a quest to slay a dragon in a foreign land. I see no reason why arithmetic cannot wait until after I've returned.”

I felt pity for the boy, “Have you asked your mother if you might not be allowed some time to relax?”

”Oh, I do have some time. Civil and I will talk and play stones after dinner, unless there is some meeting to attend. Or else there is some gathering or a minstrel playing. You could join us,” Dutiful offered, sincerely, “It's meant to be a way to allow the nobles to make political connections. It would be much more fun if you were there.”

”Thank you, but I have a few tasks I must do this evening and I would be a bit uncomfortable among the nobility. I am only a servant turned guard for his service.”

Dutiful snorted, “It would be difficult to find someone who still believes that. Still, if you have tasks of your own I will not stop you.”

”I do. But we will play stones together some other time, and if you like, I'll help you with your fencing as well.”

Dutiful's face brightened, “I would like that. Tomorrow?”

I wondered if I would have time, “All right. Tomorrow after dinner.” I stopped him as he headed for the door, “Dutiful. If you sense that presence again, or see a dragon like the one that you dreamed of when you tried to Skill walk, put your walls up firmly like you did yesterday.”

Dutiful paused and turned to face me, “She's a real dragon, isn't she?”

”I think so.” I confirmed, “And I do not think that she would be pleased with your mission.”

Dutiful frowned and nodded, thoughtfully, “No, I can't see that she would be.” For an instant he wore an expression so conflicted that I was concerned, but then he smiled, “Women are so demanding.”

I laughed, “That is certainly true.”

Lessons completed, for the second time that day, I sought out the Fool's company. I had no real hope of finding her, given Lord Golden's busy social schedule, and that was confirmed by Lord Golden's empty chambers. No matter. There was no rush.

Patience seemed to think me her page still, because she sent me into town to buy her an assortment of items that I could see no logical connection between. She wanted everything ranging from an assortment of herbs to buttons shaped like fruit. I had no idea where to find such a thing and I was a bit frustrated after the fifth merchant sent me away, giving me the name of one I'd already been to as a possible alternative. I was considering giving up and telling her that if such a thing existed, then it was not in Buckkeep town, when I happened to glance back the way I had come and see a figure turn aside hastily, and dart between two booths. The market was busy that day, with the influx of people come to witness the Prince's departure, and it could have been a coincidence. Still, I kept on my guard.

I inspected three more merchant's wares, casually, and bought Patience some buttons painted to look like berries instead. It was no coincidence. Someone was tailing me, but they were not well trained, whoever they were. My stalker wore a dark green cloak with the hood pulled up, and was always within sight, an empty market basket over one arm pretending to shop. If I glanced in that direction, the figure would turn away. I waited a few more minutes before letting myself disappear into a crowd and slip my way between two buildings to circle back.

Who could be following me? Any of the dukes who remembered FitzChivalry Farseer and had a hatred of the witted could set an assassin of their own on me. My mind ran through possibilities. No longer prey, I was hunting efficiently, scanning the crowds and moving swiftly when I could not be seen, maintaining an air of relaxed strolling when I could be.

The person in the green cloak had disappeared, but I had been trained for this work, and I found the spy looking from side to side at the mouth of a narrow pathway that opened onto the food vendors street. The bustle of the market was such that I was not overly concerned about the sound of my footsteps on the dirt pathway, but I still struck swiftly. I pulled the spy back out of sight by one arm and wrenched it back and upward as I pinned the smaller figure against the wall of the building, using my weight to my advantage and using my free hand to hold my dagger at the wretch's throat. The market basket dropped to the ground.

”Who sent you and why do you follow me?” I growled.

”You asked me something similar once, years ago.” Observed a voice I had not once expected to hear.

I released the Fool immediately and took a step back. “What in Eda's name are you doing, you idiot? What if I'd stabbed you?”

She turned to face me, rubbing her shoulder before throwing her hood back, “You would never do that. Stab a man without asking questions. I wagered that it was so, and I was right.” My expression must have been comical, because she fingered a stray lock that had fallen free of the pile of chestnut coloured hair atop her head self-consciously. “It washes out quite easily.”

I would not have known the Fool if she had not spoken, at least not with a casual glance. A closer look would show her pale gold eyes and familiar bone structure, but those things were hidden beneath the larger changes: the darkened hair and eye brows, the subtle paint that bronzed her skin, and, I now noticed, the skirts beneath her long cloak. I abruptly recognized the girl who'd bumped into me after I'd bought Lord Golden's ink. So that was how she'd gotten it.

”You're lucky I didn't kill you.” I sighed, putting my dagger away. “Why did you stalk me like that when you could have just approached me? I thought you were a badly trained assassin.”

The Fool straightened her cloak and picked up her basket, “Whence comes the Fool, and why?” She asked of the world dramatically, “Are you sure you'd like to know, Fitzy?”

”Yes.” I glared. It was easier to focus on my anger than my confusion at seeing the Fool in woman's clothing. I stared in spite of myself.

She sighed, “No fun. I've been listening to the talk in town, of course. Then I happened to see you and decided to amuse myself.”

”I doubt a slit throat would have been amusing.”

A smile as she took my arm, “And as my throat is quite whole, would you join me for a late lunch?”

Her breasts were touching my arm. I pulled free. “I came on errands for Lady Patience.”

”You haven't been having much success.” She noted, unruffled by my refusal. She took my arm again and pulled me out into the street.

It was odd walking with her hand on my arm. Odder still was that the Fool was almost unrecognizable. Her stride was shorter, her shoulders were less squared, and there was more of a sway to her hips as she walked. She moved slightly behind me when we walked through a crowd instead of making a path herself. She smiled more as she made small talk. I had not realized how completely she immersed herself in her roles; her very way of carrying herself had changed. It was strangely embarrassing and it made me acutely uncomfortable.

She directed us to a tavern that I did not frequent, the Jumping Pony, and found us an out of the way table against the wall and just over half way to the back. It was not the spot that I would have chosen for myself, but it was not far from the exit and offered a decent view of the patrons. The wooden tables and chairs had the usual dents and nicks from frequent use, but enough to show the place was well frequented rather than suggesting disrepair. We sat, and I noticed that the Fool held her limbs closer to her body than usual. A serving boy was soon along to recite the menu and take our orders. I asked for the roast fowl and the Fool asked for the same. She spoke with a woman's voice and it was obvious that she should do so, but it still surprised me.

”Why are you dressed like that?” I queried once the serving boy had gone. It had not been what I'd meant to say, but I found that I did not regret asking.

”Because I wanted to hear the gossip around town. People are more likely to speak freely to me like this than they would be to Lord Golden, and women are notorious gossips.”

”Doesn't it make it difficult for you to get back into the castle?”

”My dear Tom, you underestimate me.” She smiled mischievously and leaned forward conspiratorially. For a moment, I saw a glimpse of my old friend. “The keep is easy enough, and then who would question a girl entering Lord Golden's chambers? I have a well known appreciation for the pleasures of the flesh.”

I shook my head but could find nothing to say to that. This was beyond strange.

The Fool shed her cloak and smiled at me. It was a convincing costume. Her long skirt was a rich yellow and the bodice over her tunic was dark green like her cloak. She was lacking somewhat in a woman's curves, but she seemed young rather than ugly.

”How old are you?”

”Older than you.” She replied matter-of-factly, “A lady never tells, but if she does, it is rarely with honesty.”

”I beg your pardon.” I apologized, realizing that the question may have given offence. “It's just that you seem not to have aged at all.”

She laughed, “Much better. Stay here, I'll ask someone in the kitchens to bring ale as well.” The Fool rose, walking with a bit of a sashay over to the kitchens. She gave me a wink over her shoulder before disappearing inside. I wondered if she frequented the place, to have no fear of being reprimanded for entering the cook's domain.

What a bizarre day it had been. I supposed I had been fortunate to cross paths with the Fool; it would give me an opportunity to ask about Nettle. It would be a relief, I realized, to have an answer to what the best course of action was. 'Do you know how easy it is, Fitz, to follow a man you believe in?' Verity had asked me long ago. I did. To follow orders, knowing that you could trust them, was more freeing than confining. I understood what Burrich had felt serving my father, and I again felt shame at the way I'd insulted him before beginning my journey to kill Regal. It would be good to know with certainty that what I did was right.

I was not sure if I could, though. Even as I thought of accepting the Fool's future advice, I knew that I would still wonder if I had made the right decision. I simply wanted my daughter to be happy and to live a long, healthy life. Would the Fool, like Chade, arrange events for a greater good rather than for my daughter's happiness? Or would I be acting based on a delusion? Chade's bargain with the Fool made me wonder whether Chade's insistence that the Fool was mad had been for the purpose of creating that doubt rather than a true belief. The doubt was there now, though.

Still, it could not hurt to ask.

The serving boy set a mug of ale by my elbow. The Fool had not yet returned. I turned to pay him and to ask where the Fool's mug was, but he had scurried off, hastily. The Fool's cloak was still draped over the chair. Perhaps she had been caught up in conversation.

My food was brought several minutes later, and no plate for the Fool. I frowned in confusion as I offered the lad the coins. He shook his head and gave me a pitying look, “Already paid for, mister.”

I sighed, realization dawning on me. I passed him a few coppers anyway. “For your trouble.”

”Thankee, sir!” He smiled, tucking the coins into a pocket before hurrying to another table.

A rather large company of men had come in, and by their gaits and their shirts, I judged them to be sailors. The tavern was suddenly a much more crowded place than it had been, but my food was there, even if my friend was not, and I decided that I would at least enjoy the food. I was a bit irritated at being made to look like a desperate old man, though. The bird was moist, tender, and savoury, and it had been served with a side of roasted root vegetables. After a few bites, I found my anger fading and I spared some attention for the other diners.

The sailors were Buckkeep born, and I recognized the first mate of the Maiden's Chance by the braids in his beard and the scar that ran from the side of his nose, across his cheek, to his jaw. It was an ugly thing and I wondered if he'd acquired it fighting off pirates or Red-Ship Raiders. I did not think that it could have come from a tavern brawl. The men with him were likely some of the crew. I surveyed their weathered faces and my eyes were immediately drawn to four men whose faces seemed less touched by the sun and wind than their comrades. They wore plain clothes rather than the striped shirts of sailors on shore. New hands, perhaps? A round of drinks was being delivered and all seemed to be in high spirits. They seemed to be a close-knit crew. I studied them over the rim of my mug and recognized first one man and then the rest. I had paid little attention to the servants that had accompanied the nobles during the recent meeting with Kettricken, but I marked the earring on one man and the striking blue eyes on another. I did not know who their masters were, but I was certain that I had seen them there. Would they be serving on the ship, then?

They did no more than drink and jest in the time that it took for me to finish my meal and drain my mug. When the serving boy offered to refill it, I accepted and sat back in my seat, savouring the good ale. I would have to bring Hap here the next time I saw him. I'd promised him an evening or two together and some stories from my past. Tonight I would be busy spying for Chade, and I had agreed to spend time with Dutiful as well, but soon I would steal the lad away for a night at the castle.

Setting my empty mug down, I gathered up the Fool's cloak, rose and left the tavern. I had no idea what the Fool's purpose in leaving me there had been, unless it was some sort of revenge for my wondering her age. I did not think that I'd offended her, but then I'd always been clumsy dealing with women. I stopped to buy an assortment of spring flowers from a woman with two toddlers clinging to her ragged skirts. I shook my head at myself as I made my way back to the keep and made a correction to that thought. I had always been clumsy dealing with women, and I had never understood the Fool, even as a boy.

Feeling silly, I secreted the cloak and half of the flowers away in the pantry entrance to the passageways. My next stop back at the keep was Lady Patience's chambers, where I found her assembling a small pile of bones back into what appeared to be the skeleton of a rodent. Lacy admitted me with a nod. It seemed that I was slowly winning her forgiveness with my visits to her mistress. “Lady Patience?”

She looked up at me, “Oh! It's you. I finally hear you call me mother and now you're back to 'Lady Patience'? You'll make me think you only said it to get me to forgive you.”

”I'm sorry, mother. It's an old habit.” I offered her the bundle of flowers, “I couldn't find most of what you were looking for, but I thought you might like these.”

Her hands flew to her mouth and she rose from her macabre task to accept the flowers, “Oh, Tom!” She turned to Lacy as she accepted the bouquet, “Imagine if Chivalry hadn't been so stubborn! I could have had my little boy running about the fields of Withywoods and bringing me back flowers and acorns and pretty pebbles every day!” She sniffled and flapped a hand when Lacy went to take the flowers from her, “Sit back down, I'm fine! I want to put them in water myself.”

She took great care in arranging the flowers in a little vase, and her attention to the gift made me feel oddly proud, though I knew that I had not done much. Lacy motioned for me to sit, and I did as I watched Patience fuss over the flowers. Lacy's small smile of approval made me duck my head in embarrassment. When Patience was finished, I offered her the small bundle of purchases I'd made, “I did find a few of the things you wanted.”

Patience took the bundle from me and set it on her desk unopened. Then she came closer and folded her arms around me, stroking my hair with one hand. “My boy..” She said, fondly. A moment later, she stepped back and warned me, hands on hips, “Just because I'm pleased with you doesn't mean that you're excused from telling me about the rest of your adventures! We've years to catch up on still, and a few flowers won't change that!” I couldn't help but smile at her and she shrieked, “He's laughing at me! Lacy, the boy is laughing at me!”

I shook my head, grinning, “I'm not laughing at you, mother! I'm just happy. I have no memories of my life before coming here, so I never knew what it was like to have a mother. It's nice.”

”Oh, stop trying to make me cry!” Patience scolded, even as she gave me another hug. “You should smile more often.”

Lacy made tea and we spent some time talking. It really was nice having a mother, and I wondered briefly what my own had been like. I felt a small stirring of recollection, but I buried it again. She had given me up, and Patience was my mother now. I owed her no recollection. I had heard a woman's cries as the man had given me to the guard at the gate. No, it didn't matter anymore.

What would Nettle think of the father who'd never made an effort to be part of her life? I hoped that she would never know that Burrich was not the man who'd sired her.

”Mother?” I asked, looking into my cup of tea.

”Yes, Tom?”

”You had Molly as a maid when we were younger.”

”Yes, I did. If you were trying to remind me, I'll have you know that my memory is just as good as it has always been.”

”No, I... I was thinking of sending for Nettle. She wants to be a member of the Queen's guard, but she would have to serve her time as a page first, and I know she's a bit old for it now, but she seems enthusiastic about the idea. If she does come, would you like to have her?”

”Oh, silly child, how could you even ask? I was thinking of sending for her myself, before I found out that you were actually alive. She's my grand daughter! I would be offended if you gave her to anyone else.”

I was relieved, “Thank you.”

”She would need to be well educated, of course! If Burrich has had the raising of her, then I've no doubt she's good around a horse, but there are so many other things a lady must know! Music, art, poetry...”

”There is one other thing.” I interjected, “She does not know that I'm her father. She thinks that Burrich is and I don't want to change that.”

Patience paused and looked at me. I thought that she might argue, but then she nodded and surprised me by agreeing, “It is unfortunate, but you can trust me not to say a word.”

I found that I did.

After I excused myself from Patience's company, I went to retrieve the Fool's cloak and flowers. The keep was swelling with people once more, thanks to the Prince's upcoming departure. Some noticed the man with the Farseer features, but just as many did not. Of those that did, some became quiet and moved to the other side of the corridor, and others merely stared. Yes, Nettle's true father would definitely need to remain a secret. I was able to sneak into the passages undetected and rather than emerge again and travel by the main corridors, I found myself more comfortable in the dimly lit passageways. Those I took to my servant's room, and I brushed cobwebs off of myself before entering Lord Golden's sitting room.

The room smelled of honeysuckle. The Fool must have had a bath to remove the colour from her hair. The sitting room was empty, so I tapped at the door to her bedchamber. “Fool?”

”A moment, please!” She called, using what I'd come to think of as the Fool's voice. It suddenly seemed odd after hearing her speak like a woman. I waited for several moments before the Fool emerged, dressed in Lord Golden's fine black and silver ensemble that she'd worn to my cottage, but face bare of cosmetic. The difference between the last time I'd seen her was as night to day. “Find the matching boots for this, Badgerlock. I've not much time before I must be off,” Lord Golden commanded, turning back into her room but leaving the door open. 

Interpreting it as an invitation, I stepped inside and laid the green cloak on the Fool's tidily made bed. I then spied an empty vase and poured some water from the ewer into it before putting the flowers in their new home. The Fool was watching me with an amused look in her mirror as she combed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon, and I pretended not to notice. I found the boots and set them next to her chair.

The Fool turned where she sat and offered me one stockinged foot, haughtily. I snorted, but found the correct boot and put it on her, kneeling down as I tightened and tied the long line of laces. “You left your cloak behind at the tavern.” I pointed out.

”Thank you for bringing it back.”

”Did you enjoy making me look like a pathetic old man?” I grumbled.

”Pathetic and old?” She raised her brows and gave me her other foot to shoe, “Never. If anything, they'll be wondering what I was thinking to abandon such a fine catch.”

”Somehow I don't think that's what's going to happen.” I was appeased by her compliment nonetheless. “I came to ask you a favour.”

She lifted her eyebrows, “Anything, Beloved. You so rarely ask that I find myself concerned. Is all well?”

”I am concerned for Nettle,” I explained as I pulled the laces on the second boot snug, “You suggested that I bring her here, and I know that she would like to be a Queen's Guard, but I'm worried about what might happen because of that decision.” I looked up and met the Fool's eyes, “Will she be all right?”

The Fool inhaled sharply and then smiled thinly, “Do you ask this of Fool or Prophet, Fitz?”

”Both.” I answered immediately, “Can you tell me, regardless of what impact it may have on the kingdom or on dragons, whether my daughter will live a long and happy life if I ask Chade to send for Nettle to begin her training for the guard?”

The Fool pulled her boot from my hands and sank down to sit next to where I knelt on the floor. She stared into my face earnestly and I turned to meet her gaze, “Fitz. When I suggested that you bring her here, I could feel that it was the right direction, but what you ask... It is a hard thing to pluck one thread from the tapestry and follow it. A river may branch out or change it's course, but imagine trying to follow a single droplet of water. I know where the droplets must go to move the river, but once that drop becomes a part of the river, it breaks and reforms in countless ways and may travel in any number of paths while following the river's course or not. Throw in the odd fish and it becomes quite confusing.”

”Can you tell me or not, Fool? I don't understand you when you speak like that.”

The Fool laughed without humour, “I will try, and I will answer. Would you have me tell you now?”

”If you can.”

The Fool nodded and sent her gaze afar. It was eerie and I was suddenly reminded of a time when I had asked the Fool to see for me before. I had been in the Mountain Kingdom, but I had also been inside of King Shrewd's aging body. I had demanded to know what had become of Molly during a raid by the Red-Ships on Siltbay and the Fool had obeyed. I had wondered whether that experience had been dream or not, but seeing the Fool now made me accept that it had been real.

”So many possibilities...”The Fool murmured hollowly, “There were so many futures where she did not exist at all. But she does. You did that. Marries a lad from town, content but not satisfied, no, she runs away after her father dies and meets a minstrel with two different eyes, catches the blood plague and dies, or she recovers but loses two sons, blackness, blackness, blackness, but what about the Queen's Guard?” The Fool swayed and I reached out a hand to steady her. She gasped at my touch and I tried to withdraw, but she reached up to hold my hand where it was , “That does help. They splinter and there are so many of them it's hard to pick them out. The drops in the river...”

I wished that the Fool would stop talking, but I think that it somehow kept her anchored. Still, it scared me to hear so easily all of the possible futures that could happen to my daughter and it scared me to see my friend's gaze so far away. I could see how some had seen this and called it madness. Still. “What happens if she joins the Queen's Guard, Fool?” I prompted. The Fool opened her mouth as though to speak again, but only breathed as though she knew my thoughts. Her eyes flickered wildly and perspiration beaded on her brow. Her hand fell from mine and she alarmed me by slumping forward against me. I caught her by the shoulders. She laughed, and it was a sound more like pain than humour. “There are too many to describe them all. You've already made it more likely. So many thousands of different futures from every possible decision. They multiply and so much changes and so much is gone. Let her use her Skill. Tell her not to join Blade's troops. Definitely let her know it is the Skill she wields. Her sense of duty will keep her safe. That should take care of the bad ones.”

I felt terrible for pushing, but I could not stop there, “But she will be fine? She'll be happy?”

”Happy, yes, frustrated, angry, afraid, in love, and so many human feelings. Why do you always ask me about them? There is so much, I cannot take it all.”

I had asked before, I realized, when I asked about Molly when Burrich had learned that I still lived. “I'm sorry, Fool. Stop now, that's enough.”

The Fool exhaled shakily and shut her eyes, the picture of weariness as she let me support her for a moment longer. She spoke once more in a soft voice that I had to strain to hear, “She is made all of stones and tears. Her soldiers are made of shadows, but hers are not the hands that cast them and so she crumbles into dust when they leave her and is washed away by the sea.”

I frowned, “What are you talking about, Fool?”

She opened her eyes and gave me a tired smile that I did not deserve, placing her hands on my knees as she pushed herself upright. “Catalyst you are, indeed. If you had not asked me to look I might not have seen it. To answer your question, I have no idea.”

I admitted to my spying. It was worth it to spare my friend, “I heard the bargain you offered Chade. If seeing the future in such detail exhausts you so, then tell him to forget about it. Even if he did give me a direct order, I am not so mindless that I would not question it if the situation demanded it.”

”Do not fear, Fitzy. Chade, I think, is the type to focus on where the river flows. It will not be too difficult.” The Fool sighed and got to her feet, walking to her bed with visible effort and then dropping into it, her boots dangling over the edge. She spoke to me from there, “To summarize, Nettle should be fine unless things change drastically. You may follow my advice if you wish to be doubly sure.”

I walked over and tied the laces on the second boot securely, “Are you all right?”

”A bit tired.” She answered, honestly. One of her arms was draped over her eyes. “Such a thorough examination is usually a study of years. To do it quickly required diving in and making friends with the fish. I am worried though. I think I can sense a subtle shifting, a building of uncertainty.”

”Well, we'll deal with it when we get to it.” I assured.

”I envy your ability to wait in blissful ignorance, I do.”

I ignored the possible insult, “As friend only, do you think that I should send for Nettle?”

The Fool took her arm from her face to look at me, “As friend only, I think that you need to shave again. I thought that I was kissing a porcupine this morning.”

I had been certain that we'd come to an unspoken agreement not to speak of that incident again. I frowned, insulted, “You didn't complain then.”

”Mm. No. But only because it would have been rude.” She smirked, but the look faded, “I do apologize for my actions.”

”It was the charm. I know that you didn't actually want to.”

She huffed a laugh, “Of course I did. I am apologizing for acting on it. It would never be my wish to make you uncomfortable or to strain our friendship. You've made your position clear and I respect it. I will ask nothing that you would be unwilling to give.” She sat up and folded her gloved hands on her lap, “It shames me that I did not exert better control over myself. I have been greedy lately, I think. Worry not. It will not happen again.”

I was uncomfortable with the Fool's uncharacteristic bluntness. It had suited me fine to ignore what had happened and I fumbled awkwardly for the correct words to say, “You need not apologize so, Fool. I'm just glad that we've stopped our silly fighting.”

She smiled sadly, “As am I. It seems like so much wasted time, now.”

”Speaking of time, you said that you needed to be somewhere. I've not made you late, have I?”

”Not for anything of importance, and I doubt that I will be missed. I will have to go eventually, though, if I am to convince your targets to be absent for several hours this evening.”

I nodded, “I told Hap that I would borrow him from Gindast for a night or two before we sail, so that we could catch up. He'd like to hear some stories about our childhoods as well, and I told him that you would do better telling them than I. Do you suppose you could join us?”

”I would enjoy that.” The Fool smiled more happily this time, “I will be available at your convenience.”

”Thank you.” I said, “And for your help with Nettle.”

”You are welcome, Beloved, whenever you need. Well, not too often, if you please, actually, but I am happy to help.”

I chuckled and our conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence for a time. I sat down next to her on the bed. “Beloved.” I echoed. Beside me I heard the Fool give a soft gasp. “You said that I might call you by your name when it was just us two.”

”Yes.” She answered in a choked voice.

”Why do you call me by your name?” I asked, not understanding why I had not asked it before.

My question got only silence in return. I turned to face the Fool who appeared to be wiping her eyes. “Fool, did I upset you?”

A shake of her golden head, “It has been a long time since anyone has called me by name.”

I thought I understood. I had no recollection of the given name of my earliest childhood, and had simply been Fitz and FitzChivalry upon being given over to my father. “Would you like it if I called you that?”

I was rewarded by a smile, “It is enough to know that you would. Fitz. Just when I decide that I will set my own desires aside, you make it that much more difficult.”

I changed the subject, “You've got bits of herbs stuck to your leggings.” I brushed at one of her shins, “Is Lord Golden going to be seen looking like that?”

”Lord Golden is tempted just to let them all wonder who he's been rolling about on the floor with. Thistle would be jealous.”

I snorted, “I'm sure he would be.”

The Fool hopped to her feet with an energy I could tell was forced and brushed at the backs of her legs. “Well. Fashionably late, covered in strewing herbs, hair less than perfect. Tongues will wag.” My friend grinned, “I cannot say that I regret it.”

I watched as she resumed her seat at the desk and began the careful application of her paints. I admired how steady her hands were at the delicate task. If it had been me, everything would have smeared. Silver paint made butterfly's wings of each eye and black paint transformed them into scaling. I also saw the creation of the shadows around her eyes, behind her jaw, across her cheeks, and down the sides of her nose that gave her a more masculine appearance, though I could not understand how. Her eyebrows were subtly thickened with yet another layer of paint. She caught my eye in the mirror as I stared and winked. No, I could not blame myself for being fooled for so many years.

”You're good at that.” I observed.

”It's something that I enjoy and it has it's uses.” She smiled, “Thank you. What do you think? Ready to go turn heads and win back some of the popularity that I lost in the meeting last evening?”

I considered it and then rose to take one of the flowers from its vase. I chose one at random, and the colour of it did not match the Fool's black and silver at all. “You used to wear flowers on your jacket.”

I held it out to her and the Fool took it, smiling softly as she threaded it through a button hole. “You used to put them on my breakfast tray every morning.”

”That was Garetha.” I frowned, “You know that.”

”I do, but I didn't then. Thank you, Fitz. Give me until sunset, I shall have half of the castle out of your way.”

”Thank you.”

”Think nothing of it. Now fetch me my hat, Badgerlock. The one with the white feathers. I will be going out this evening.”

”Very well, Master.” I replied, fetching it.

Lord Golden gave me an unimpressed look that somehow managed to be down his nose at me even with my superior height and then left me there. I think it was the first time that the Fool allowed me to be in her bedchamber without her.


	8. Questions and Answers

_The shadows grew higher and more numerous until all that was left was blackness._

Seventy-fourth piece of vellum (continued) recovered from a chest in Buckkeep Castle. Accompanied by a pressed yellow flower between several folded pieces of Bingtown-style paper.

I took my evening meal in the men-at-arms room. I could have made do with cold, stolen bits from the pantry and made some progress on my translations and readings, but I decided to be rebellious and enjoy a hot meal from Buckkeep's kitchens. Duff was proving to be just as talented as Sara, who still cooked the sweets and pastries that it pleased her to do, and while the food was not as elaborate as it would be in the Great Hall, it was delicious and there was plenty of it. There was roasted pork, the fat crispy and bubbling, of which I carved a generous slice, and plenty of bread. The ever-present pot of stew steamed at the hearth, but I passed it over for some slightly burnt roasted potatoes that had likely been deemed unfit for the nobility. A slice of well aged cheese, something that would have been a luxury at my cottage, and a mug of ale completed the meal.

The other men were having ale as well. It was not an unusual thing in the guard room in the evening, but one young man was saying loudly that it was the only safe drink to be had, since an entire town not far from Buckkeep, save for the local drunk, had apparently taken ill from the water turning to poison in their well.

”It was the work of the gods.” One man proclaimed, “Them allowing witted folk to live amongst them.”

”I heard it was the witted girl herself.” Contradicted another, “Had a row with her neighbor over the run-off turning her garden to mud, and next thing you know she's disappeared and the well turned bad.”

”What's that got to do with the wit?” A skeptic complained, “Sounds like a hedge-witch gone wrong to me.”

”No, she was definitely witted. That's what everyone's been saying. Probably got a load of animals to shit in it or something.”

”I heard they ran her out of town and the water came up clear again.”

”Nah. They ran her out after she turned her cat on a man what tried to kiss her. Well went bad after that.”

Their talk was spoiling my enjoyment of the food. After all of Kettricken's efforts, that the witted were still being treated with superstition disheartened me. Still, change takes time.

”It'll be our well next, so drink up, lads! Who knows when all these witted folk will decide to do us all in?”

”Web said the wit doesn't work like that.”

”Course he said that, he's witted, isn't he? He would want you to think that.”

One particularly drunk guard leaned across the table to gesture at me with his mug, the liquid in it sloshing dangerously, “Let's ask 'im, then! Tell'im that it was the wit!”

I felt their eyes on me and was startled to be included in the conversation. Given their hostile words toward the witted, things could go badly. Perhaps I should have worked on those translations. I cleared my throat. “The wit doesn't work like that.”

”He's witted too, you idiot! Course he'll say that.”

”Yeah, but he's a Farseer too. Aren't you?” An old grey-beareded veteran addressed me. If I imagined him a couple of decades younger, then I thought I recognized him. “There's no use denying it. You're the image of old Chivalry.” 

I stayed very still for a moment. “I'm Tom Badgerlock now, Widehelm.” I corrected, evenly.

”Eda's tits. I knew it was true!” Exclaimed a younger man. “The bastard used beast magic to rise from the grave!”

My meal was suddenly a lot less appetizing. My hands clenched into fists and for a moment I was taken back to Regal's dungeon while he watched his guards kick me as I lay curled on the ground. I relaxed my fists and evened my breathing. I felt as though I balanced at the edge of a cliff. With my words, I had loosened the ground at the edge. Each step I took could either keep me on solid ground or send me tumbling over the edge.

Havershawk was there. He knew better than to touch me, but he slid into the space beside me on the bench in a friendly way. “What happened was that a boy discovered a plot against the King, too late to do more than avenge his ruler. Then he was locked away and supposedly killed before he could be given a trial. All because he could have stood between a man and a throne.” Blade cast his gaze about the table. “I knew him as a boy, and he's no monster, witted or not. And if the tales are true, then he did more for the Six Duchies than any of us.”

There was some muttering among the guards. “Yes. But. They say his grave was dug up and the coffin broken from the inside! And that there were wolf tracks all around it.”

I gave Havershawk a grateful look and then spoke for myself. It felt odd to speak the words aloud when I had kept my secret for so long. I wondered if that was how the Fool had felt when I discovered her gender. “Regal and his soldiers beat me nearly to death in the time that I was there. But I didn't die.” That, I was sure was a lie, but I would not put the noose around my own neck, “It was faked so that I could escape.”

The murmuring increased and suddenly there was a barrage of questions, some curious, some more cruel. I was overwhelmed, but I did my best to answer. No, I couldn't transform into a wolf. I came back as a servant because it paid a good wage. No, I had no interest in challenging Dutiful's claim to the throne. “Excuse me.” I said, rising from my seat.

Havershawk put a hand on my arm and shouted, “Shut up, the lot of you! Mind your business.”

He seemed to command the same sort of respect that Burrich once had among the guards. Some looked mutinous but turned back to their own conversations nevertheless. I sat back down, but could not summon back my appetite. “Thank you for that, Blade.”

He nodded and joined a conversation that had sprung up about Outislander women and how they differed from those found in the Six Duchies. I was left to finish my meal in peace and then make a quiet exit. I could feel eyes follow me out of the room. I went immediately back into the seclusion of the spy passages.

It was nearly sunset. I took some time to calm my mind, sorting through some of the scrolls in the work room. Chade had left vials and jars full of all sorts of powders scattered about the place and I gave those a wide berth, also taking care not to disturb any of his meticulous notes. I found myself a corner of space at the writing desk and began reading. Gilly tried to climb up my legs, but I shooed him away. After enough time had passed that I felt safe in beginning my spying, I changed into my old servant's attire, checked my hidden pockets, and added a few things from Chade's supplies. I did not expect to take any action, but it never hurt to be prepared.

The reactions of the guards and men-at-arms had confused me. Had Chade been correct in assuming that emphasizing my loyalty to the Farseers would mitigate the negative reactions to my wit? For some, that seemed to be the case, but there was still some prejudice against the witted. Surprisingly, it seemed to be among the younger men-at-arms. Perhaps the older soldiers had seen enough to know that everyone dies the same way. Blade's support had surprised me, but I was grateful for it. I had not thought that he'd liked me any more than the other guards when I had been a lad at Burrich's heels and then serving aboard the Rurisk. It was good to know that I had an ally. Perhaps if I could avoid drawing too much attention to myself, people would get used to the idea of me serving as no more than a guard.

The passageways to Blackwell's and the other's quarters were labyrinthine and as I banged my bead on a sudden lowering of the ceiling I cursed myself for not having taken the time to explore them more fully in preparation. In the end, it took me twice as long as I had expected to find the right area. I counted the peep holes as I passed them, keeping a mental log of which room belonged to which noble as I did so, and checked their occupancy. Empty. Empty. Empty. The Fool had been true to her word. I was lucky that the fires were kept banked as defense against the chilly spring, giving some dim illumination to the rooms. There were seven suites in this area. I wondered how long the nobles would be out, and if I would have time to check every room. I would start with Blackwell's.

With no convenient entrance directly into his suite, I made my painstaking way back to the nearest exit from the passageways, a small door into an unused storage closet, and peered out through a small hole in the door to be sure that the corridor was empty. I waited for a small group of maids to turn up a stairway and then slipped out of the closet. I then walked back to Lord Blackwell's room, had the lock open, and slipped inside, shutting the door behind myself.

Lord Blackwell had been given one of the average quality suites. It was decorated tastefully with elegantly crafted, dark wood furniture, a thick rug, and two tapestries depicting mountain landscapes. Blackwell's belongings were stowed tidily away, and I wasted no time in going through his wardrobe and chest, as well as checking in the bedding for anything secreted away between the sheets or under the pillows. I was, as always, sure to place everything back the way I'd found it. It helped that the room was so tidy. It was always more difficult to recreate a mess.

My examination of Blackwell's desk yielded me more than my examination of his clothes and possessions had. The man had a stash of smoking herbs that were nothing more sinister to my examination, and was taking herbs for a sensitive stomach, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. In his desk drawers I unearthed a treasure trove of correspondence from Duke Bright and several other of the nobility whose names I recognized. There were several from his wife as well. These I skimmed quickly. From Duke Bright came surprisingly candid, though artfully phrased, complaints about his young wife's waning ardor, declaring that it was likely her friendship with Duke Shemshy's daughter that was poisoning her against him. From the Duchess Alameda came fond words and desire for Blackwell's swift return. I did not think that Bright knew of his wife's correspondence with his friend. Blackwell's own wife had written accountings of how their fiefdom was faring this spring. She had fired the witted maidservant and replaced her with a girl who came highly recommended by a friend. Blackwell's father reminded him that he would never get himself an heir if he spent his time gallivanting off to court and adventures to other countries. Aside from the small amount of scandal, there was little to suggest anything untoward. Still, a smart man would not keep evidence in a desk drawer. I put the letters away and turned my attention to his fireplace to look for scraps of unburnt parchment. There was something there, fallen out of reach of the flames. I nudged the charred scrap with a poker and then snatched it up. Disappointingly, only a few words were legible, and they were only fragments of lines.

_... no sign..._

_... have not allowed him..._

_... end this pointless..._

_...in my home..._

It told me very little, though it could have if it were whole and that knowledge frustrated me. Analysis would come later, and I stored the words in my memory to revisit with Chade. I had time, I decided, to visit another chamber. After being sure that no trace of my entry had been left, I exited the room. The corridor was thankfully empty, and I let myself into the suite left of Blackwell's. 

It was the work of several hours to infiltrate and dissect each suite, and it took at least double that to report every detail, sometimes more than once, to Chade. “Yes, those were Thistle's, I believe,” he interjected, “Perhaps not a bad idea to take advantage of the celebrations to check the other nobles as well. What did you find?”

”Thistle's are the next ones down, actually.” I corrected, mentally wincing at the old man's lapse, “After Blackwell's I inspected Elfric's. They were ordinary enough. His man was not as tidy as Blackwell's and the room was a bit more of a mess...”

As I stepped into the dimly lit room, that had been the first thing that I was struck by. Garments had been tried, rejected, and left draped over the chair or the bed. A sticky wine glass was left sitting on the table. He had packed two sea-chests for the voyage, which was conservative for a nobleman, but had several other bags and boxes that would probably find their way aboard. Like Blackwell, Elfric had a stash of smoking herbs. These were apparently quite good, because the smell of them permeated the room and made me wrinkle my nose. Their ashes were all that I could discover in his smoke censer. He had a collection of scented oils and perfumes to rival the Fool's and none of the bottles seemed suspicious to me. Actually, nothing at all struck me as strange, but I related all of the small details to Chade nevertheless, knowing that he would prefer that to a summary. Elfric was making an effort to learn Outislander, and he had been studying several scrolls on their customs.

As much as I wanted to discover some secret or plot that would justify my dislike for Lord Thistle, I had discovered nothing more sinister than another untidy servant in his rooms, though this one appeared to have at least made an effort. I shook my head to myself. I knew from experience that it was not an easy job. I should not be so critical. The man had clothing in abundance and it did not seem like his packing for the voyage was complete. I spied several bottles of fine spirits and a small box of jewelry as well, probably gifts to win favour from the Outislanders or other nobles. I spent a bit more time looking through his correspondence and scrolls. He was an extraordinarily boring individual in contrast to the others. His mother had written advising him to take care of himself and that she and his father were proud of him for showing such spirit in embarking on the voyage to the Outislands. His father had written encouraging him to form useful alliances and friendships. He had a sweetheart, too, apparently. I raised my eyebrows at that. Her name was Carena. She was so impressed with his adventuresome spirit and was certain that he looked dashing in his sea-clothes. I snorted. The man was more interested in political alliances than adventure, and he was a bit pudgy from a sedate lifestyle. There was a lady's lace handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket of the jacket that was draped over the desk chair and I surmised that it was a token from the girl. My dislike for the man grew as I thought of the way he'd been ingratiating himself with Lord Golden for his trading connections and attempting to lead the hopelessly drunk 'nobleman' to his rooms. Poor Carena probably had no idea what the man was really like.

I left feeling irritated. I debated checking the other rooms, but the evening had become full night and surely the room's occupants would be returning soon. I'd crept back into the passageways and went to the workroom, and it was not long before Chade joined me there.

”Well...” Chade said once I'd finished my tale, “I suppose it is reassuring that nothing was amiss. And the charred scrap of parchment could have been something highly personal, rather than incriminating. There is no way to know for sure.”

”It is unfortunate that it was burnt to that extent.”

”Yes, it's more taunting than enlightening. Did the writing on the parchment match any from his other correspondence?”

I shook my head, then reconsidered. “Perhaps his wife's, but I cannot be certain.”

”In my home...” Chade echoed the fragmented sentence, “It would make sense. Perhaps she had been scolding him for something.”

”I can see why he would want to burn such a letter.” I agreed, “but he has not been here long. Why send one letter full of rebuke and another one bland and full of accounting?”

”Women are mysterious creatures.” Chade mused, “It is only a hypothesis as yet. We will need more facts before it can be proven. I shall put my network to work hunting for any trace of scandal.”

I frowned, “Should we not focus on your initial suspicions, rather than Blackwell's family matters?”

”I suppose it is safe now to tell you what my reason for giving you this mission was. My initial fears were that some ruthless inland noble would seek to sabotage the coast's chance at forming their trade agreements. It would not be the first time that quiet work was done for the filling of someone's purse rather than for the throne. It seems that none have grown bold enough for it yet. However, that note is the only suspicious bit of information that you've found. If we can confirm that it was scandal, then perhaps we can put those worries out of our minds and focus on the trials of the journey instead.”

”It makes sense.” I agreed. “You've been busy with the preparations for some time now.”

Chade snorted, “Yes, and the work will only increase until we've finally set sail.”

I made my offer wondering if Chade would save me the trouble of broaching the subject of Nettle, “As ever, if there is anything that I can do to be of assistance, let me know.”

”Yes, I've heard that offer from you before. As I recall, you refused the thing I asked.”

I frowned, “Is it so wrong to ensure that my daughter lives an untroubled life?”

”No.” The old man surprised me by agreeing, “It is not. But it is wrong, also, to deny her her birthright and to leave her uneducated and unprepared to take her place in line for the throne should we all drown at sea.”

”So you've said. She would be educated and serve as our contact at the castle.”

”Precisely!” Chade huffed, “If you are capable of parroting back my own reasoning to me, surely you can see the sense of it.”

”I can.” I said, winning myself a raising of the eyebrows from Chade, “I can see the wisdom of it. My only fear is that her life would no longer be her own. If you could promise me that she would be able to choose her own husband, and be able to live her own life, then I could agree to it. I would also ask that she not be told who her father is, for her own safety.” Chade looked shocked. I scowled, “I am not completely unreasonable.”

Chade composed himself, “Yes. Well. You must admit, it is a rather drastic change. Usually you would shout or stomp off in a huff that I'd even suggested such a thing.”

Was my temper that bad? Perhaps it was, since I was annoyed that he'd predicted my usual reaction. I forced myself to calm, “You told me when you visited my cottage that she'd like to join one of the guard companies. I've given it some thought. She could come to court as a girl trying for the Queen's Guard. There would be no connection to me. As for the Skill, I would prefer it if she were trained as a solo, but I agree that she should not be kept ignorant of her magic. She could be educated and introduced to court life slowly.”

Chade stared at me for a moment. “I admit, you've surprised me, Fitz. I had not thought that you would ever warm to the idea.”

”I still ask that she be allowed to live her own life, free of the responsibilities and complications that would come with being my daughter,” I stipulated firmly.

Chade hummed and leaned back in his chair, his fingers forming a point against his lips, “Yes. Perhaps it could be done. Carefully of course. She could be taken on as a favour to Burrich. Some still remember that he was Chivalry's man and well respected amongst the guard. He would have to be persuaded to agree, of course...”

I could not help but smile, recalling what Burrich had said to Chade, “That may be difficult.”

”Have a bit more faith in me, boy,” Chade rebuked, “I managed to convince you, even if it did take some time.”

I said nothing to contradict him, “It was the logical choice. I can see that now.”

”Well. Thank Eda that you finally have. We have precious little time in order to arrange it all! You might have come around a bit sooner.”

”I've been told that I'm stubborn.”

”Hah! There's an understatement.” Chade rose from his chair, “This leaves me much to do. Funny, I thought that having you back would ease my workload.”

I frowned, “You do not need to leave. This has always been your place of work.”

Chade waved a hand, “No, no. Some things I can accomplish just as easily from my own chambers. Good night, Fitz.”

”What about practicing Skill-riding?”

”Another time, perhaps. Your procrastination has left me with much to do.”

And so it was done. My insides roiled at the thought of how easily I had just changed my daughter's life, but I also felt a strange relief. It was as though I'd been fighting all this time against a current that had finally won its way. Knowing that it was out of my hands did not stop me from worrying, though. Would that current lead to safer waters? I supposed that I would have to trust the Fool's advice and Nettle's spirit. Useless to worry now that it was in Chade's hands.

Knowing that I would not be able to sleep with my mind full of worries, I ventured down to Lord Golden's chambers. The Fool would want to know what I had set into motion. Recalling the darkness that I'd contended with the last time I'd made the journey, I brought a candle. Threads of spider webs gave way to its heat as I walked, and the light illuminated my ill-kempt domain. I was surprised when I stepped into my servant's room to find that a candle was already burning there. It had not been burning for long. If the Fool had returned with the other nobles, I supposed that I could have searched another suite at least, but I found that I was not overly upset by that. It was late and it would be good to sleep for a decent amount of time. I set my candle down next to the one that the Fool had left out, listened at my door, then pushed it open and stepped into the room.

The Fool was just setting a pot of tea on the table, and looked up to smile when I entered, “Ah, Fitz! Your fourth visit in one day, too.”

”I am not intruding, am I?” I asked as I joined her at the table.

She shook her head, “Not at all. In fact, I am glad to see you. I've missed you, and it's good to make up for the lost time.”

I took my seat and she placed a cup of tea before me, “I spoke to Chade about Nettle. He's going to arrange everything.”

She nodded, “I thought as much. I felt the shift. Should I have prepared something stronger than tea?”

”I would not object, but tea is fine, really.”

A smile as she retrieved the brandy from the desk drawer, “Better to drink with a friend than alone.” 

”That is true. To friends and good brandy?”

She poured us each a measure and took her seat, holding up her glass, “To friends and good brandy.”

We drank. I savoured the summery sweetness of the drink and the heat of it as I swallowed. A memory was called to mind of the Fool riding up to my cottage astride Malta. That reunion had been sweet, and I'd smelled the apricot brandy on her breath as we embraced. I had not realized how much I'd missed my old friend until that moment. Effortlessly, she'd matched herself to the rhythm of my days and filled the aching gap of loneliness I'd always attributed to Skill hunger. Unconsciously, my hand had drifted to my wrist, where the Fool's fingerprints had been Skill-burned.

The Fool followed my gaze and reached a gloved hand across the table, unerringly matching her fingers to their prints. Even through the layers of fabric I felt a jolt of Skill-awareness. In those days at my cottage, I had hungered for someone to reach out to me with the Skill. Now, I had daily practice with the coterie and the use of the Skill for communication even in my sleep. Still, those uses were superficial compared to what I had felt when the Fool had left those marks on me, and I found myself craving that depth of connection. I wet my lips, “It would not be wise.” The words were meant to convince myself as much as her.

”Perhaps I am mistaken,” she said, eyes fixed on her hand on my wrist, “but I do not think it is the Skill that you crave through our bond, though it is the Skill on my fingertips that wrought it. I have no Skill of my own. Perhaps I am mistaken,” she repeated, “but what did you feel? When I first left those marks on you and the times I've used them to keep you inside of your body.”

I contemplated it, following her gaze, “I was distracted at the time. Actually, we had a bond of some sort even before we found Verity. I'd forgotten it. Nighteyes said that it was more like a Wit-bond than a Skill-joining. It was something like a shared awareness. When you touched me with the Skill, well, I'm sure that you remember it as well as I do. It was knowing. It was as though we were one. I knew you as well as I knew myself at first, and I knew that -” I silenced myself, frowning slightly. I gave voice to the next words slowly, “I knew that.. you loved me. But then you pulled away and I could regard you as I would regard anyone else deep in the Skill current. The others times were almost like that. We were separate, but I could feel the thread of our link.”

The Fool nodded. “If it is only the Skill, then it would be no more dangerous than what you do with Dutiful, Chade, and Thick.” She pointed out, “You know how to hold yourself back from it, and I, too, have learned not to be carried away by what the things I touch can tell me.”

”I suppose.” I conceded. The temptation was strong, as was my curiosity. I trusted myself to resist the pull of the Skill-current now, but some part of me was wary. “It would not be wise” I repeated. 

I almost regretted my decision when the Fool drew her gloved hand away from my wrist. She smiled as she picked up her cup but still looked a bit sad as she said, “No, it wouldn't.”

”What troubles you?” I frowned, taking a sip of my own brandy.

The Fool shook her head, “Nothing, Fitz. Just thinking that I was sorry for leaving you at the tavern today.”

”I'm sure that you had your reasons,” I said, and I found that I forgave her.

”Yes,” She agreed without elaborating. “Well, perhaps another time. I'm sure there was never a finer pair in Buckkeep than we.”

”I prefer your hair the way it is.” I said, not sure when I had even developed the opinion, “It isn't you otherwise.”

”I am still me, no matter what I look like.” The Fool pointed out, “And I suspect that I would have continued to darken with age.”

”I know that, I suppose it just makes me uncomfortable when you are disguised.” I paused and frowned, “Would have?”

The Fool looked momentarily confused, then surprised as if she had not known she'd spoken the words. Those expressions were masked so quickly that I was not sure that I'd seen them, “Will.” She corrected.

For a moment, I considered pursuing the topic, but I had a feeling that I knew what would be said and I had no wish to think of such things nor to argue. “Will.” I agreed, firmly. “And that will be fine. It was the disguise that I objected to.”

”I thought that I looked quite fetching.” The Fool huffed over the rim of her cup.

”You did. It just wasn't you.”

”Oh, so am I not fetching as I am?” She gave me an exaggerated pout that looked ridiculous while she still wore Lord Golden's clothes.

I snorted, “Fool. You'll win no such compliments from me while you're all done up as Regal's Jamailian counterpart.”

”Regal was a handsome man. It was the rest of him that spoiled it.”

I coughed, choking on my brandy, “Excuse me?”

She laughed, “Relax, Fitz. His personality was repulsive.”

”Still not something I like to hear about the man who had me killed.” I grumbled.

”Yes, I know.” She agreed, sombrely, “I apologize. If it is any consolation, I wish that I could have saved you from that.”

”Let's talk of something else.” I said, shying away from those memories.

”My apologies.” The Fool said, sincerely, “Did you have any idea when you would like to have Hap visit?”

”I am not sure yet. Whenever there is a free moment, I suppose.”

The Fool nodded, “It is a hectic time. In a different way for some than others. Lords Sharp and Elfric nearly came to blows during this evening's festivities. I dare say, I cannot imagine how the two will survive on board a ship together for the time it takes to reach Zylig.”

”What did they argue over?” I frowned. It was more like the nobility to disagree with exaggerated politeness and gossip than by exchanging blows.

The Fool shook her head in exasperation, “Too much drink and a competitive game of stones. We play with quite high stakes, you see. Somehow there was a disagreement over whether Sharp could actually afford to pay what he'd bet; the man is not known for his tact or bargaining ability. Sharp then wondered aloud why Elfric would be concerned at all, since he already seemed intent on sucking away all of the coast's profits to the inland. Elfric retorted that the coast had always been a drain on the Six Duchies resources... It really just degenerated from there. Eventually I felt the need to step in and calm the two parties. Elfric took offense and attempted to take a swing at me, but I managed to restrain him without embarrassing him too badly.” She smirked.

”Idiot. What if he'd hurt you? Or his manservant. It looks like they've all started hiring bodyguards. You should have asked me to accompany you.”

The Fool laughed, “Fitz, the purpose of this outing was to allow you time to inspect their rooms. How could you have done that if I'd had you masquerading as my servant again?”

Right. “Still.” I frowned, “You should not have interfered.”

She tutted at me, “Trust me, I am not so helpless as you seem to think. I'm stronger than I look.”

”You are.” I agreed, grudgingly.

She smiled, “It is sweet of you to worry, though. Perhaps I shall have you come along next time. You can fetch me drinks and move the stones for me, so that I can play in complete relaxation.”

I snorted, “Shall I fan you as well, master, so that you do not overheat from all the exertion?”

”A wonderful suggestion, Badgerlock.” 

I sighed and shook my head, “You take such delight in your role.”

”I do.” The Fool admitted easily, assuming a relaxed posture in her chair and balancing her cup in the palm of one hand. “But I've distracted us. You came to discuss Nettle, did you not?”

”I did, but worrying would be useless now. If we could just talk, perhaps I will be able to put the matter from my mind long enough to find sleep tonight.” A thought occurred to me and I asked, “You made acquaintances as Amber in Bingtown and as Lord Golden here at court. Will you maintain both identities?”

The Fool looked puzzled and tilted her head to one side, “It has been necessary to retain my life as Amber in order to build my life as Lord Golden. I believe that Lord Golden's usefulness is nearing it's end. When that time comes, I will become no more than a few scandals and stories, then nothing.”

”Is there no one that you would keep contact with? When I ended my life as FitzChivalry, I hurt a lot of people.” I looked down at my glass, “It seemed easy at the time, but I wish that I had done things differently now.”

She gave me a kind smile, “You are concerned that I would face a similar problem. Worry not, Fitzy. Our lives are quite different. There is no one who would be badly hurt. I've made sure of it.”

I frowned, “I would be.”

”You are my catalyst, you're different.”

I did not understand, but I did not think that I would understand an explanation either. “Very well, what about Jek then? You two seem to be good friends. And you seem to care about the others as well.”

”I do.” She answered, but slowly as though she gave each word great thought, “I do not expect you to understand, Fitz, but all things in this world are temporary. People, money, war, peace. I am very aware of that. Human lives are very short. In five years, ten, I will be only a memory as more immediate concerns displace the old. I am not – I do not mean to sound unfeeling...” She trailed off and looked at me beseechingly.

I did not know what she wanted of me, and her words angered me because I knew now the cost of such behaviour, “Yes, life is short, people learn to cope, but it is not justification for hurting other people.”

She paused and I thought that perhaps my words had touched her. Then her expression turned sympathetic, “I know that you feel guilty, but-”

I interrupted and snapped, “It is not about me feeling guilty,” but perhaps it was. I sighed.

The Fool was silent for a time. She drained the rest of her glass of brandy and then poured some more. She held the glass in both gloved hands and looked at it. Then, she opened her mouth as if to speak and drank again instead. I waited. When finally she spoke it was with an even tone and softly, “You did not come here to argue. Let us stop.”

”If you know so much, then why did I come here?” I demanded, querulously.

She looked at me calmly, with a coldness in her gaze that was unsettling. I felt as though she'd taken something away from me. For several moments, she regarded me that way, and then her expression softened and she smiled, “A friend and good brandy, I suppose.”

I sighed and let my shoulders slump, “I apologize, Fool. I truly have no wish to argue with you. I'm just tired, I think. It has been a long day.”

”That it has.” She agreed, and as I took in the shadows under her eyes and recalled how wearied she'd been earlier, I felt guilty. 

”I suppose that I ought to get to sleep. I should let Nettle know that she can expect a summons and I've practice in the morning.”

I thought that she would be relieved to be allowed to seek her bed, but instead she looked mildly alarmed, ”Why don't you stay the night here? There's no need to go all the way back to your lair.”

”I could.” I agreed, “The bed is more comfortable though. Hardly any one even saw my little servant's room. You could have been a bit less realistic in that aspect of the deception.”

”Take mine.” The Fool offered instantly, “I don't mind.”

I frowned. That was a highly unusual offer from one so obsessed with privacy and it made me both wary and concerned, “Fool, is there some reason that you'd like me to stay? If so, you need only say so.”

She hesitated and then sighed with exaggerated woe, “You've found me out, Fitzy. I'd planned to molest you in your sleep, but now my plot will never know completion.”

I shook my head, “You're ridiculous. Good night, Fool.”

”Good night, Fitzy-Fitz.” She leered lasciviously and made a lewd gesture at me in farewell. 

Amused by my friend's silliness, I departed back to the workroom where Gilly greeted me enthusiastically. I'd brought no snacks for him, but he was content to climb up my leg and onto my shoulder to attack my hair until I had to remove him to undress for bed. I hoped that Nettle would be pleased by my news for her.


	9. Fitz's Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic description of sex near the end. Not sure how well I did at writing it >.

_My catalyst will live the life of peace that he has long craved. This is the only vision that has come to me from beyond the darkness that awaits, and I am grateful for it. As my end time draws near, more and more is hidden from me. I must move with caution to avoid disrupting that future._

Eighty-second sheet of vellum recovered from a chest in Buckkeep Castle

I was drunk. Staggeringly drunk. To this day, I cannot say how I made my way back to the keep rather than falling in a ditch and remaining there until morning. Somehow, I had made my way back into the castle and was determined to forget about the mess that my life had become.

Nettle had arrived eight days after I'd spoken to Chade, and privately, I wondered if he had not been preparing for my eventual capitulation. She came with Burrich and, surprisingly, Swift. They arrived while I was practicing with Keen, and the sight of them on their mounts had distracted me sufficiently to earn me a solid rap on the shoulder. Still, I could not stop watching. Burrich still rode like he had been born on a horse, and he had passed his skills on to Nettle and to Swift, who rode a pony. All three were dressed simply and sensibly, but Nettle proudly wore the scarf I'd gifted her with, and she probably wore the earrings as well, though I could not tell at that distance. The children's heads were turning this way and that as they took in their surroundings, but Nettle's gaze was definitely drifting over the practice courts. It could have been enthusiasm to begin her training, but I thought that she might be seeking me.

I would have known her even without Burrich as her escort, and it took all of my self control not to stare, my eyes hungry to make up for all of the years I'd missed. Her long, dark hair fell down her back, and her skin was darkened by the sun. She looked different than the way she saw herself in her dreams. Her dream-self had a stronger resemblance to her mother. In reality, I saw more of Molly's father in her, with some of my Farseer features peeking through in feminine form. The party was challenged at the gate and then admitted. Burrich steered them in the direction of the stables, and I turned back to my practice. That had been my first real glimpse of the daughter I'd seemingly abandoned for sixteen years.

Keen grinned at me, “She's something to look at, for sure.”

I swung my practice sword.

I visited the steams after practice, and when I emerged, I half expected to find Burrich waiting for me, demanding to know why I was stealing Nettle away from him. Instead, I saw nothing but the grassy field and the men and boys going about their business. Even as I made my way back into the castle and to the workroom to change my clothes, I kept expecting to see Burrich's scowl, or Swift's curious stare, or Nettle searching for Shadow Wolf. I wondered why she did not Skill to me to let me know that she'd arrived, and I dared not Skill to her first, lest she know that I'd seen her. Suddenly, I was filled with nerves. I would be meeting my daughter for the first time in real life. Would she want anything to do with an aging guardsman she didn't know was her father? Would she hear the rumours about me and become frightened or disgusted? I told myself that she was not the type of girl to believe all of the ghost tales about the Witted Bastard. Burrich thought very little of the Beast Magic, though. Would she share his beliefs? Would she somehow piece together that I was her father? 

My worries and anxieties suddenly gripped me with such ferocity that I thought I would suffocate. Why had I not considered these things before sending for her? Why had I not arranged to have her arrive long after we'd departed? I wished that I could simply vanish. Disappear behind the walls and not have to confront the fact that my daughter was in the castle. Block her from my mind. It was cowardly, I knew, but suddenly the thought of her knowing me and hating me or discovering my true identity was too much for me to bear.

Burrich. Would he hate me too? For stealing away the daughter that he'd raised while I'd spent years hiding from my life? How did he feel about her trying for the Queen's Guard? He would worry, and he would not have the benefit of the Fool's supposed foresight. Did he have his own dreams for Nettle that I had, with a few words, destroyed? My spirits sank as I realized that I had not only altered my daughter's life, but Burrich's and Molly's as well. They must have hated me. How could they not?

Especially Molly. I could imagine her berating me with tears and anger in her eyes for stealing Nettle away from her now when I had not shown the slightest interest in her existence for years. When I had not even visited once to apologize in person to the woman I'd wronged. If Burrich had not stepped up where I had failed, protected Molly and loved her, what would have become of her? She had her beekeeping as a livelihood, but few men would be interested in a girl with a babe at her hip. I sighed out a breath through my nose in the dusty passageway. She would have every right to hate me. I wondered what her reaction had been at Chade's summons. Anger, I was certain. Tears as her daughter left to begin a new and dangerous life on her own.

I sighed. It was too late to change what I had done, and worrying would not improve things. But what would I say to Dutiful, if anything? No, if he knew then he might insist that she be told of her Farseer heritage. The fewer people who knew of the secret, the less chance of it being told. I contemplated my dilemma as I made my way into the castle and the secret passageways.

When I finally trudged up to the work room, I found the Fool waiting for me. She was lounging in Chade's chair and playing with Gilly. It had become an increasingly common occurrence to find the Fool in Chade's lair. She looked tired, but that too was nothing unusual. I knew not whether Chade knew of her comings and goings. On one hand, the old man seemed to know all that occurred in the keep and beyond; on the other, the Fool had always been able to surprise me, so I did not underestimate her ability to move unseen. She smiled at me when I entered, then looked concerned, “You frown as though you would grow a garden on your brow, Fitz. What troubles you?”

I smoothed the furrows from my brow, irritated at myself for betraying my troubled thoughts, and sighed, “Nettle. I am still not sure if I've made the right decision.”

The Fool quirked her head at me, “Did you not say that Nettle wished to try for a guard company?”

”Well, yes, and I know that you said she would be fine, but Burrich and Molly do not know that.”

”Tut, tut, Fitzy. If you want Nettle to be able to choose her own path, then of course she must be freed of her parent's plans for her as well. The wheels are already in motion. Will you ask Kettricken to send her home again? Explain to Nettle that she cannot follow her dream after all? I've picked out some clothes for you, by the by.”

I had only been planning on changing my shirt. On the bed, I could see several articles laid out. I did not recognize them, and if I had owned them they had probably been tucked away in the bottom of my trunk. Either that or the Fool had ordered more things made. “I can see that.” I began to undress and the Fool kept her back to me, “and no. I will not stop the messenger. My acceptance of what is to come does not make it any less worrying, though.”

I expected the Fool to come and fuss over me as was her habit when she'd troubled to choose my clothing, but she stayed where she was and I was left to fumble with the lace cuffs and tiny buttons. They were annoying. I strode over to where the Fool sat and held out my right arm. She smiled and fastened the cuff for me. “Forgive me for not being more helpful. I am better when there is a solution to be found. But tell me, what else troubles you? Perhaps it would help simply to give your worries voice.”

”It will probably only draw my attention to them.” I confessed, offering the Fool my other sleeve.

”Then would you prefer it if I distracted you?” She asked, her nimble fingers easily slipping the tiny buttons through their holes, and the lace of her gloves tickling my wrist.

I admit that my first thoughts were not honourable ones. Then, red faced, I rebuked myself. It was all of the Fool's nonsense affecting my mind. It had been long since I'd been with a woman, and so even the Fool's jokes were getting to me. It was confusing. Since she'd kissed me, she'd jested with me, but the casual physical contact that I'd grown accustomed to had disappeared. Apparently she now required my permission to button my cuffs as well. Was she asking permission for something else? If she was, how would I respond to the friend of decades I'd thought was a male for years?

In my silence, the Fool added, “I've some amusing stories from last evening that might prove entertaining.”

I recovered myself, “Er. Yes. I suppose that might help, but I've Skill-lessons with the others shortly.”

The cuffs on my sleeves attended to, the Fool removed her hands and folded them in her lap, “No, you don't. Chade will be meeting me here shortly, Dutiful has a last minute fitting, and Queen Kettricken currently gives audience to Burrich. I expect that Burrich will be wanting to speak with you as well.”

I could have been amused or offended that the Skill Master was the last to know of the cancellation, but my insides had turned to ice, “Speak with me. Do you mean that Nettle and Swift will be there as well?”

”They might be, if Kettricken has not sent them off to settle in.” Her answer was spoken gently, but did not spare my feelings.

It was hard to breathe. I sank into my chair. “Fool, I can't do it. I can't face Nettle. Not now. Not with Burrich there. Why did you dress me like this? I'm supposed to be a guardsman. Just a guard. Not even one of noble birth.”

”Fitz.” The Fool interrupted my voiced concerns, “Nettle will hear of your identity regardless. You have been largely isolating yourself from others, but your true name and bloodline is well known. Better to make a good impression now than to let others make your impression for you.”

”I can't, Fool. What if she discovers that she's my daughter?”

”She will only know if you or her parents tell her.”

It made sense, but I could not help but worry. How many had known of my trysts with Molly? Only Patience, I thought, and Lacy. But Regal had known and he had sent guards after Molly and Nettle. I groaned. Why had I thought that this would be a solution? 

Chade chose that moment to enter the workroom. His eyes went from me to the Fool and back. Somehow even in my anxiety, my trained mind noticed that the dark blue that was the base colour of my ensemble was echoed in the folds of the Fool's voluminous sleeves, and that the embroidery that ran riot on her Jamailian style vest was present in a much more reserved quantity on my Buckkeep style doublet. I wondered if that was what Chade had noticed. He cleared his throat, “Fitz, the Queen requests your presence in her audience chamber. Be discreet.”

I wanted badly to refuse. I wanted to find a logical reason as to why I should not meet them. Every argument that I could think of was feeble, though, and I was too cowardly to allow myself to be seen as a coward. The Fool would be patient but coax me to see reason, and Chade would berate me. In the end I would have lost my pride for naught. I took a steadying breath, “Very well.”

When I emerged into the audience chamber from the passageways, I tried to appear calm and hide my fears. Still, I knew that I entered the room as warily as Nighteyes when he'd first entered a house. To my relief, neither Nettle nor Swift were present. Burrich was seated across from Kettricken, who rose upon my entry. I bowed to her but she waved aside my formality, “Burrich has requested to speak with you, FitzChivalry. I give you the use of this room for as long as you may need.”

”Thank you, my Queen.” I replied, hoping that none of my nervousness was apparent.

Burrich was seated, his bad leg extended before him and his clouded eyes staring at me. His mouth was set in a grim line and I had to take a steadying breath before I could bring myself to sit before him. “Burrich,” I greeted, cautiously.

”Fitz.” He replied, his deep voice stirring my boyhood memories. He looked older, much older, than the last time I'd seen him. As though the revelation of my life had somehow drained his away. I could not help but feel guilty. “They say they're going to pass this off as a favour since I served as Prince Chivalry's man. They didn't tell me much, only that there was danger to leaving a Skilled child untrained. I know you, and you wouldn't let Chade start something like this without a reason. Tell me what's after my daughter that's more dangerous than being a soldier.”

He was surprisingly reasonable for a man whose child was being taken from under his roof into a life he'd never wanted for her. It still gave me a pang of hurt to hear him call Nettle his, though I knew that I had no right to call her mine. I spoke bluntly because he deserved to be told the exact truth, “There is danger... More danger than simply the addictive nature of the Skill. Believe me, I am not trying to take her from you, Burrich. You've given her the life I wanted for her. She's safe and protected and loved. I am forever in your debt for all you've done for both her and Molly...” I cut myself off as I realized that I was rambling and forced myself back on track, “You know that Dutiful's quest is to slay a dragon in the Outislands. There is... something that opposes that. A dragon, I think. She has been able to touch minds with me using the Skill and has shown herself to the other Skilled ones as well. I worry that, unguarded and untrained, Nettle could be attacked with the Skill, possibly physically if the dragon were to fly here. It seemed the best course of action to bring her here. I won't tell her that she's... That I...” I sighed, “She will have no connection to me.”

Burrich listened to my explanation intently. He frowned and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs. “I was a soldier for years. I know what that life demands. I can tell you there were times that I've killed and times that I thought I would be killed. For a man with nothing to lose, that was fine. That's not the life for her.”

I bowed my head to that, “I know. I'm worried about her too. I've asked Patience to take her as her page-girl, and she will be instructed in the Skill.” I debated telling him the Fool's words but decided against it, “I'll do my best to keep her safe. I'll be accompanying Dutiful on his quest to the Outislands, but in my absence and if anything goes wrong, Patience will see that Nettle comes to no harm.”

Burrich shut his eyes, “I brought Swift. He's going to apprentice to that Wit-master, Web.” I could hear the derision in his voice as he spoke the title, and I knew what it cost him to let his son train in the magic he'd always believed was wrong.

”Burrich...”

”Don't. If I think any more about it I'll change my mind.”

I put a hand on his shoulder, “They'll be fine. As you cared for me when my father left me in your care, so I will care for them. I promise you that.”

He said nothing for a time and then sighed, putting his hand on mine briefly, then pushing it from his shoulder. “I'm an old man, Fitz. I thought I lost one child once, I don't want to go through that again. I don't want Molly to go through that.”

”I'm sorry.”

”Damn it, boy.” He sat up and looked at me with the black look that had so often put me in my place as a youngster, “Come home. How long before you're nearly killed again, how long before Nettle has to take a life or dies in battle, how long before Swift becomes little better than a beast? This damned court destroys people. It eats them then shits out broken bits of men that aren't ever whole again. I don't want to live the rest of my life worrying if my girl is going to live or die. I don't want to worry about you either, or what this life will turn you into. I don't want my Swift living like an animal. Why can't you just come home? Live with us. Or somewhere near by if you can't stand it. I know you're good with horses and hounds; you could help me. Or find some other job. Just leave this damned place.”

At the end of Burrich's impassioned speech, he slumped back over his knees again, a man burdened by worry, and waited for my response. For a moment, I could imagine it. I could see Burrich bringing his children home to Molly, free of his fears, and me settling to a quiet life in the country, tending horses or making do with some other trade. I could imagine it, but I could not stand the thought of witnessing daily, the happiness of Burrich's marriage to Molly. I could not stand the thought of returning to an empty house in the country without Nighteyes at my side. Much as I longed for a simple life, free of court intrigue, I had grown restless towards the end of my time at my cottage, and I knew that I would go mad if I were to return to that life alone. No, there was nothing for me in that life. All that I had was tied to the mess of Farseer politics, and I did not have much. Rather than say those words, I found myself parroting Chade's earlier logic. “You know that I cannot do that, Burrich... Both Nettle and Swift should be educated in their magics so that they do not -”

Burrich cut me off stubbornly, “So teach them at home.”

I shook my head, “It does not remove the danger of the dragon.” I dared not even say her name lest it call her attention to me. The realization swept over me like a wave that it seemed as though Nettle's coming to court had been inevitable as I spoke on, “The castle is well fortified and protected, and the Skill coterie is here. Nettle will be protected from both physical and Skill attacks. Moreover... If anything were to happen to the Prince on this voyage, Nettle is the next in line for the throne.” I bowed my head, “I will do my best to protect him, but if I should fail, then it will fall to her to rule. She should not be unprepared.”

I saw Burrich's fist clench and he growled, “Over my dead body.”

”I have no wish to see such a thing occur. I can only say that I will protect Prince Dutiful with my life.”

”So I would lose both son and daughter.”

I looked up at Burrich, then inclined my head again, “Yes. Because I could do no less in my duty to protect both Prince and daughter.”

Burrich groaned and leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples, “I can't enlist again. Not with my leg and my eyes.”

”I will watch over her, Burrich. I swear that I will.”

”And who's going to watch over you, boy?” He demanded.

”I will be careful,” I assured him, “and I will ensure that no harm comes to Nettle or to Swift.”

”I don't like it,” He said, his tone full of weariness, “Molly doesn't like it either. I told her I'd try to get you all home.”

”Molly wanted me there?” I asked with disbelief.

”Well...” He shrugged, “She got angry when I told her you lived and you never came or sent word. I think that means she wanted you to, but then she might have gotten mad about that too.”

I could not help but exhale a small laugh, “She probably would have killed me herself.”

Burrich nodded, “Probably.” He pushed himself to his feet with a groan, “Despite the circumstances, I'm glad to see you. Even if Molly would have killed you, I'd have been glad if you'd come.”

”I'm sorry.”

”I'm trusting you with them, Fitz. And I'm trusting you to come back alive. I know you're leaving soon so I won't bother you to come now, but once you get back you should come home.”

”I'll visit.” I promised as I stood, wondering if I would keep it.

Burrich pulled me into a hug and I took a deep breath of his familiar scent. He patted me on the back once and then released me, “You might as well do whatever pleases you. She'll kill you either way. That's how I get by.”

I nodded once, not trusting myself to speak. I let Burrich precede me out of the room, then resumed my seat with a sigh. I had not had to meet Nettle, but dealing with Burrich had been draining. I was glad to see him, but pained by how he'd aged and by the worries that I'd given him. I hoped that I had not made a mistake.

It took me some time to gather myself, then I made my way back to the workroom. It was done. I had been given a chance, but there was no going back now. Nettle would train to try for the guard, and Swift would be educated in the wit. It was done. It was useless to worry if I'd made the wrong choice. I could not change the past. Nevertheless, I pushed open the entrance with a heavy heart. It leapt to my throat when I saw the Fool crumpled on the ground like a puppet with the strings cut. My other concerns fled. Chade was there. He had a frown on his face as he stood over the fallen Fool, and it was one of anger rather than concern. I was between them in an instant and knelt by the Fool's side. My fingers detected the beat of her heart at the blood point on her throat. I looked up at Chade, “What did you do?”

Chade raised his eyebrows at my accusation, “Nothing at all.”

”Then why is he like this?” I demanded.

”You ask as though I have all the answers!” He snarled, “Ask him when he wakes. That fool is the one who claims to know all.” Chade gave us both a disgusted growl before turning and stalking from the room. I turned my attention to the Fool.

”Fool? Fool, wake up.” She did not stir at my voice, so I carefully examined her head and neck for injuries. Her hair was very fine. I could detect no injury, so perhaps she had consumed something? There were countless poisons in this room and I regretted not showing her what to avoid once she'd begun visiting here. I looked around but could see no cups or plates out. Frowning I shook her shoulder, but she did not stir. I cursed and tried again to no avail. Unwilling to leave her on the ground, I picked her up and carried her the few steps to the bed where I deposited her gently. At a loss, I sat down beside her. Chade had met with the Fool. Had they talked or had he collected his portion of their bargain? The Fool had been exhausted after answering my questions about Nettle. If Chade had demanded more of her, it could explain her state. I waited several minutes before deciding that the Fool would not be made more likely to awaken by my staring at her and then rose to make tea. Patience would need to find some other pass time to occupy herself. It was not because I feared to meet Nettle if I emerged from the workroom, I told myself, I simply feared to leave the Fool alone. I paused as I reached for a bit of firewood to add to the fire. Thick had been here as well, and had replenished the pile in his usual pattern. If Chade would tell me nothing, perhaps I could interrogate the little man as to what had occurred. 

I set a cup of tea on the small table at the side of the bed and attempted to rouse the Fool again. This time her golden eyes fluttered open briefly, but shut again as she fell almost immediately back into sleep. I did not think she even saw me. I sighed and debated briefly whether I should carry her through the spy passages back to her own room. It was doable, but then I would have no excuse to remain where I was, and if she had no head injury now, she very well might after I'd tried to negotiate the narrow spaces with her in my arms. That decided, I sat down with one of the Skill scrolls that Chade had left out for me and began to read.

It was a useless effort. I would read a sentence or two only to have my attention carried off by my own thoughts and have to begin again. What was Nettle doing now? Would she be seeking Shadow Wolf? Why had she not Skilled to me? Would Patience remember to keep Nettle's bloodline a secret? Had she pieced it together already, and that was why she did not Skill to me? I sighed, put the scroll down, and paced several turns around the room. When I returned to my seat, I took out parchment and began to write, beginning with the time that Molly had left me, another account of my life as I attempted to make sense of how this had all come to be.

I was startled after I know not how much time had passed, by a thud from the other side of the room. I turned in my seat, setting down my pen, to see the Fool seated on the floor, her legs bent to either side, looking dazed. She was already bringing herself back to her feet when I reached her side and assisted, guiding her to sit down at the edge of the bed. She trembled under my grip and I frowned, concerned, “Fool, are you all right? What ails you?”

”Fitz.” She swallowed, pushing her hair from her face with one gloved hand, “Have you any Elfbark?”

I frowned, “I don't, but perhaps Chade does. But what does that have to do with what's wrong?”

”Please, will you give me some?” She asked, quietly, not looking at me.

My frown deepened as I put my thoughts together, “Did you try to use the Skill?” That did not make sense, because save for the three fingers on her right hand, she had no Skill of her own. I had seen the Fool like this once before, I realized, and I asked with dread, “Did Chade try to use the Skill on you?” The old man's Skill was weak, but if Thick had been here, he could have drawn on his strength.

She said nothing and I rose to rummage through Chade's supplies. When I found a stash of Elfbark, I prepared her a weak brew of the bitter stuff. After my long reliance on it, it was tempting to make a second cup for myself, but I would not do further damage to my own magic. The Fool had lain down again while I did so and I helped her up when the tea was cool enough to drink. She sipped it, made a face, and then drank the rest in one shot.

”Fool, did Chade try to use the Skill on you?” I asked when she was done. I took the cup from her and set it on the side table.

”Yes.” She answered at last, “It's all right, Fitzy,” she added, seeing my expression darken, “I underestimated him, and it was my own fault.”

I would be having words with Chade later. “It isn't all right, Chade should not be using the Skill as a weapon or acting independently of the coterie. I am the Skill Master by his will and he did that without my permission. But what did he do, Fool?”

She shook her head, “I was attempting to answer his questions. There were things that I could not say, and I believe that it frustrated him. So much is blackness now. He wanted to know things.” She shook her head again. The Elfbark I'd given her should have energized her, but she still seemed incredibly weary.

Cautiously, I set a hand on her arm, “I'll talk to him. He won't try anything like that again.”

”I already know that he won't.” She smiled, thinly, “You could help me to my rooms instead? I do remember the effects of Elfbark on my tongue, and I suspect that not even Lord Golden's reputation could survive that.”

The Fool's sense of humour had been especially barbed and bitter when she'd been dosed with Elbark on our journey to find Verity. I nodded agreement, “Well, at least you're aware of it. Can you walk?”

”I think so.”

I helped her to her feet and the Elfbark must have restored her somewhat, because she was able to manage the walk unaided. Still, the body cannot be tricked for long, and I winced in sympathy at the thought of the price hers would demand later. She allowed me into her bedchamber without a word and I saw her safely settled.

”Did you see Nettle?” She asked before I could depart.

”No,” I answered, “I talked with Burrich, though. He's worried about her, as am I.”

She nodded and smiled a bit, “The both of you are her fathers. It reminds me of my family. Don't worry...” She shut her eyes briefly, then opened them again, “My purpose is to see the house of Farseer survive. If it is a comfort, I am doing all I can to ensure that you, Dutiful, and Nettle survive.”

”It is, I think. At least, you've managed to keep me alive this long. Your family. Have you tried to see them again since you left?”

”No, I haven't... I know not whether they still live, or if they remember me.”

”I fail to see how anyone could forget you.”

”I've no energy to be subtle, Fitzy, you should meet Nettle.”

I exhaled and sat at the edge of the bed. I returned bluntness with bluntness, “I'm afraid, Fool.”

The Fool's eyes shut again, “I too... am afraid.”

”Why should you be afraid? She's my daughter. What consequence is it to you if she hates me?” I was confused. I waited for a response, but when none came I frowned, “Fool?”

She'd fallen asleep again. I sighed and rose. It would be inappropriate to linger while she slept. I pulled the covers over her and wondered briefly if she would be uncomfortable in Lord Golden's clothes. Her chest was probably still bound. Well, I would not fix that. I checked the fire, added another small log, and exited, shutting the door behind me. The bare sitting room confronted me. It still seemed odd to me, that all of the bits and pieces that had been on display were gone. Most had been the pieces that were deliberately displayed to enrich Lord Golden's image; the Fool was very careful about showing only what she wished others to see, but some of it had been hers. Those things were all stuffed haphazardly into a desk drawer now. I wondered what the Fool kept in the chests beside the desk in her bedchamber, and momentarily considered looking, but shook my head at myself. Too curious. If there had been any tidying to be done, I would have busied myself with it, but there was none. What would I do? Hide in the workroom? Continue hiding the next morning when it was time for practice? No, I would go about my day and if I happened to see Nettle, well, at least it would save me a sleepless night. Shoulders squared to the task, I left Lord Golden's chamber and stepped into the main corridors of the castle.

I regretted not hiding, in the end, I thought as I made my drunken way into the keep and up the stairs. It had been hard to see Nettle and hear her voice for the first time. It had been a brief meeting, but will forever be engraved in my memory. I had gone to see Patience and Nettle was just leaving. She'd emerged and turned down the corridor as I was approaching. I froze and she froze too, looking at me with wide, dark eyes. I watched as she visibly gathered her nerve and took two steps closer. She was clutching a bundle of clothing to her chest. “Shadow Wolf?” She asked, clearly and directly. Her voice was deep for a girl's but I thought that it suited her. It took me a moment to find my tongue. “Nettle...”

I did not deserve the grin that broke out on her face as she dashed the last few steps to meet me. She looked at me much, I thought, as I looked at her, studying every feature and detail. I blushed, abruptly self-conscious of my appearance. I knew that I was old and scarred. Would even Nettle's friendship be taken from me? How must it look for an aging guardsman to be speaking with such a young girl alone? She smiled up at me, suddenly shy, “I thought that it was you... You froze in place just like you do as a wolf, as though I won't see you if you stand still enough.”

”I knew you as well.” I continued to stare at her, mesmerized. How had I spent so long imagining our first meeting and not prepared a suitable thing to say? I managed to state the obvious, “You're here.”

”I am.” She agreed, then her enthusiasm broke past her shyness, “Oh, Shadow Wolf, it's wonderful here! It's so big! I met the Queen! I had no idea that father had served as Prince Chivalry's man! I can hardly believe that I'm here at all, but it cannot be a dream because I am surprised over and over again! Shadow Wolf, thank you so much!” She embraced me suddenly, transferring her bundle of clothing to one hand as she did so, but pulled away quickly, her face a bit red, “You must think me so forward, but I feel as though I've known you my whole life!”

”Do not be embarrassed.” I hastened to reassure her, “You have, really, though we've only just met in person.”

”You aren't as hairy in real life.” Nettle observed, then clapped a hand over her mouth, “Oh, I say such silly things. I'm sorry, what a foolish girl I must seem to you.”

”Not at all, Nettle. It is true, though I suppose I should have shaved...”

”You would look younger without the beard. Not that you look old now! When you said that you knew my father, I'd always imagined you to be much older, even once you told me your true age. I- I don't mind.”

I was glad to hear that, even as I worried what our friendship would cost her reputation. “I'm glad. We could keep our meetings confined to our dreams if meeting like this would be problematic. It might even be best at first, while you make a place for yourself amongst the other pages.”

Nettle pursed her lips in thought, then shook her head, “Why should I be bothered by what others think?”

”Court life is very different from the life you've known,” I cautioned her, “What others think can make the difference between happiness and misery.”

She sighed, “I know. I just wish that it didn't. Shadow Wolf, I've been waiting so long to finally meet you. I will not have that taken from me by gossips and people with so little work to do that they concern themselves with other people's business.”

I was relieved. Nettle had not disdained my friendship on sight. She even seemed eager to keep it. One hurdle was done. I would now have to do all I could to prevent her from learning of her true parentage. “Thank you, Nettle.”

”I don't even know what to call you. I cannot go on calling you Shadow Wolf.”

”You can, if you like, but I am called Tom Badgerlock by others.”

”Tom.” She repeated, looking at me, “Tom. It will take some getting used to.”

”Take your time.” I said, awkwardly.

”Will you show me where to find the seamstresses?” Nettle asked, rescuing me from having to come up with conversation, “I've been given a uniform, but it will need some altering. I said that I could do it myself, but Lacy said that it would be faster to bring it to them...”

I nodded and turned to escort her. Mistress Hasty was still the seamstress at Buckkeep, and she had an army of ladies at her command as well. It was so strange. I'd worried and agonized over my first meeting with Nettle, but it had occurred and the world had not ended. It was wonderful to see her, but it felt hollow, in a way, to be so near to her yet unable to claim her as my daughter. To keep that secret between us. I left her at the door to Mistress Hasty's work rooms and that was that.

As we said an awkward farewell, she'd looked at me with Molly's eyes and echoes of my own features, and it was more than I could bear to think of all of the years I'd thrown away not knowing my daughter. Not watching as she took her first steps or said her first words, not being there as a father should as she slowly grew into a young woman. Not helping to shape her, guide her, and teach her. She'd grown up without me and I had existed without her. Existed. I had let my daughter be raised by another man and surrendered the woman I loved for a life of mere existence. It seemed unthinkable to me now.

My mood spiraled downward as I reflected that Dutiful was technically mine as well. The boy was earnest and intelligent, everything that a father could wish, and he'd been starved for a father's love. It was evident in the way he'd grown attached to me, the man who'd killed his wit-beast, and the way his eyes lit up at the slightest demonstration of affection. I did not fault Kettricken; she had raised him wonderfully as a Queen and woman alone. The lad had needed a man in his life, though, for rough play and as a role model. I should have been there for him. I thought guiltily of the evening the Fool and I had spent with him, jesting and telling stories. Dutiful had seemed more alive than I'd seen him in weeks, laughing and smiling freely. In his every day life, the boy was much more reserved and held a necessary distance between himself and his peers. Dutiful deserved more days of fun.

It was not only what he was missing, but what I was missing as well, that ate at me. I had raising of Hap for years, but he had been a boy already when Starling had given him to me, and though I saw him as a son, I had missed the anticipation of a child's birth, the early years of caring for a baby, and watching that child grow with a wife by my side. I longed for all of that. Could I have won Molly back to me if I had gone to her? Would, as the Fool had said, Kettricken have accepted me as a mate if I'd pursued her? I could have had a wife and the raising of my own child. I was all alone now. Neither Nettle nor Dutiful knew that I'd fathered them, and Hap was building a life of his own. Molly was Burrich's, Starling was married, and I had never loved Jinna. Could I have come to love her if I'd not given my memories to Girl on a Dragon? Would I have gone to Molly, courted Kettricken, or come to love Starling? It made me sick to think of all that was missing in my life. 

Those bleak thoughts were my companions as I decided to forego my visit with Patience that afternoon. I did not think that I could pay attention to her chatter, and I did not think that I could stand hearing about her first meeting with Nettle or being berated for not sending for her sooner. I did not think that I could stand much more of anything that day, and so I left the keep and made my way to Buckkeep town, where I made myself comfortable at a tavern and remained there until night. I'd chosen the Jumping Pony again, and once again my fellow patrons were largely sailors. There was some talk of the upcoming voyage to the Outislands, but I paid little attention to it. My mind was focused on its own worries and sorrows, and I tried again and again to drown them in drink. I could not even drink the cheap wine I'd favoured as a youth because it reminded me of the time I'd gotten drunk to forget about Molly leaving me. Consequently, my purse was much lighter as I made my way back to the keep. Unfortunately my heart and mind were not. Why had my life ended up this way? Was I doomed to spend the rest of my years alone behind the walls of Buckkeep castle? I'd resolved that I would do better now that I'd learned what the loss of my memories had truly cost. Did I need to spend the rest of my life drowning in my loneliness?

My feet carried me to Lord Golden's chambers, and my hands supported me by trailing along the walls and catching me when I stumbled. I could not fix the past, but I could fix the future. I did not need to become another Chade. I did not need to bear the burden of this loneliness forever. I fumbled with the door, but it was not latched. I remedied that once I'd entered, clumsily shuffling into the room. I frowned again at the bare walls and unadorned furniture. The room did not need to be empty either. Still, I was grateful for the lack of obstacles as I made my way to the Fool's bedchamber and pushed open the door.

The room was dark, but the fire had not extinguished and it cast a warm and gentle glow throughout the space. The light and shadow made the Fool's pale hair more rich and highlighted the shape of her face as she slept. She'd not bothered to shut the bed curtains, but her blankets probably kept her warm enough. They moved gently with her breaths. I gave no thought to the rudeness of waking her or the rudeness of my behaviour as I crossed the room and pushed the blankets aside. Before the Fool could stir, my lips were on hers.

Of course, she did not remain asleep for more than a moment. Her eyes snapped open and she tensed, pushing me away with her hands on my shoulders. They were still gloved, but she'd apparently risen at some point during the day to change into her night shirt and robe. I was not deterred and began drunkenly attempting to pull the fabric from her shoulders. She pushed me again with an indistinct sound of protest, and sat up, “Fitz? What in-” I pulled her hands from my shoulders by taking hold of her arms and pushed her back down onto the bed, silencing her words with another kiss. I knelt over her on the bed without removing my boots. The Fool turned her head aside and asked breathlessly, “Fitz, you're drunk, aren't you?”

”It doesn't matter.” I defended myself, leaning down to kiss her exposed cheek and then her throat. It was odd that she had no scent of her own, but the scent she wore was subtle and of sweet flowers. It was nice and I said as much. The room spun and I was suddenly on my back, blinking up at the Fool who had pinned me expertly beneath her. I groaned dizzily. “If that is your preference, Fool, you need only have asked.”

”You are very drunk, and so I am going to ignore this... this... I am going to ignore this. I will let you up and you will go find your own bed.”

I was confused by this seeming rejection and when her hold on me slackened, I reversed our positions once more. The Fool gave a small exclamation of surprise and struggled to pull free, but my strength was greater and I was able to hold her. While she tested my grip on her, I leaned down and kissed her again. “I am not so drunk that I know not what I do.” I defended myself, following her mouth as she turned her head and stealing a kiss on the lips, “This is what you've wanted, isn't it?” A part of me was enjoying the challenge of winning her, and my inebriated mind was not alarmed by my definite stirring of interest.

”Not like this, Fitz. This is not- you are not yourself! Why are you doing this?” She demanded as she attempted to twist free of me.

”You are all that I have left.” I breathed, kissing her jaw, “You are all that I have. You said that you love me. Please, I don't want to be alone. We could have a life together. We could be married and have children. We could be happy. Please.” I knew not where the words came from, but they flowed forth in a torrent, propelled by my loneliness and longing and loss. Everything else had been taken from me, but the Fool loved me. I kissed her again and let go my grip on her arms to pull at the fabric of her robe and the laces of her shirt, baring a pale shoulder. The dim light and shadow of the room highlighted the golden hue of her skin and the ridge of her collar bone. I placed an open mouthed kiss in the shadowed hollow above it and rejoiced that the Fool did not push me away again. She spoke as I kissed the pale column of her throat.

”To take those things without love is theft,” she asserted quietly, “You are thinking not of loving me, but of what I can give you because I love you. It is not fair to me, Fitz. I love you and I would give you all if I could, but that isn't fair.”

”I could learn, Fool. Please.” I begged, baring her other shoulder. She shifted beneath me but I paid no mind until her bare hand closed around my wrist. The Skill-tipped fingers of her right hand found their prints unerringly. Her touch was searing, neither hot nor cold, and it surged through my veins like liquor. My body gave a violent jerk of shock, but I lost all awareness of it as my mind was swept away by our sudden Skill joining. It was overwhelming. What had always been a thread, thin and strong as a spider's silk between us, was now an infinite ocean and as bright as the sun. Somewhere, my body gasped for breath. The Fool surrounded me, filled me, and held me. The union of our minds was sharper than the thrust of a blade and more intimate than sex. I was the Fool, she was me, and in that knowing I felt that she held none of the walls that any Skill user would hold between us. She was completely open to me and, like the strange creature that I had encountered in the Skill current, she seemed to be made entirely of love and acceptance. I was helpless and a part of me was alarmed by that, but the rest of me was enthralled and I reached after her like a child after a sweet.

Then the Fool released me. My mind reeled and it took me some time to come to myself. The room seemed terribly dark and I blinked several times before I was able to see.The Fool's honey coloured eyes peered up at me, glowing like a cat's in the dim light of the fire. “No one can give that much...” I choked between gasps of breath. I felt disoriented and our Skill joining had unmanned me. “It's impossible.”

The Fool reached up with her left hand and stroked the hair back from my face tenderly. “Get some sleep, Fitzy.” She soothed, sitting up and guiding me to lay down beside her, “You're all right.” I did as she bade me, nearly toppling onto my side next to the Fool. Her soft hand guided me and then smoothed my hair again. Her own was unbound and it shimmered around her face, giving her an otherworldly appearance. I reached up and pulled her down atop me as I rolled onto my back so that we lay chest to chest. My fingers threaded through those soft strands as I pulled her face down to meet mine. I pressed our brows together in our old gesture. The memory of our brief Skill-joining still buzzed through my veins, and the loss of it was suddenly unbearable. For a moment, I had not been so alone.

”Beloved, please,” I begged.

I felt the Fool shudder above me and her breath tickled my face. “Please stop tempting me to such selfishness. I beg you, go to sleep.”

I tilted my head and pressed my lips to hers, my left arm keeping her trapped against me while my right continued to caress her hair, “I will get my memories from the dragon, I swear it. I will learn to love you.” Another kiss, “I will make you happy.” Another, as I switched our positions, pinning her beneath me, “Please.”

The Fool shut her eyes briefly, took a slow breath, and opened them again. I waited as she did so, taking in her appearance. Though her skin and hair were all of acolour, the lighting made them distinct. Once, I had looked down at Molly like that, and admired the way that her black hair contrasted with her sun-kissed skin. I banished her from my mind. The Skill had not blown the muzziness of drink from my mind, but had added what can only be described as a craving. I had felt the love that the Fool held for me, I had experienced completion. Had known for an instant that as prophet and catalyst we had always been one being. That feeling and those thoughts had become a memory since the Fool's fingers had left my wrist, but I wanted them back keenly.

The Fool's pale eyebrows drew closer together in a frown and her gaze went afar for a moment before she looked up at me uncertainly, “I dare not divert us from the course I have set. I cannot tell what is the correct action to take here.”

I kissed her again and this time she yielded to my insistence and returned the kiss, her lips soft and pliant beneath mine. She seemed hesitant still, and uncertain. She had kissed me on the mouth before, when the dragons had risen to fight for the Six Duchies, but I did not know what other experience, if any, she had gained over the years. I was abruptly self-conscious, but determined to prove myself. It was she who broke our kiss as I reached for the folds of her clothing once more. I froze. She looked up at me with dark eyes and it seemed that she'd finally reached a decision. A small smile appeared, “You've more to remove than I.”

I needed no further encouragement to disrobe, cursing at my boots and at the tiny buttons that the Fool reached over to help me undo. I was in a rush, but the Fool slowed my pace, undoing buttons carefully and untying laces. I shivered, more aware of the touch of those nimble fingers than I had ever been. The glove had reappeared on her right hand and I despised it. The lace fell away from my sleeves, my doublet was undone and carefully removed, and the ties of my tunic were untied methodically. Even my hair was unbound and the Fool took some time to run her fingers through it and murmur compliments. More innocent but somehow more erotic, witnessing and feeling the Fool undress me left me fully erect before I was completely unclothed.

The Fool was more reluctant about undressing herself, so I did it for her, and though I'd already seen her tattoo, she strove to keep both it and her breasts from my view at once with little success. She sat before me, legs folded and tucked to once side, naked and blushing, and my patience could endure no more. I kissed her and guided her to lay back. Her legs unfolded and I settled myself between them. As much as I ached to take her, I kissed her slowly and thoroughly. Her arms folded around me and slid upward so that her fingers twined in my hair again as I pressed kisses to the cool skin of her neck. It was annoying that strands of my hair found their way into my mouth, but she seemed to like it loose and I did not complain. I brushed my hand along her side, feeling the curve of her waist, then cupped that hand over one breast while my mouth claimed the other. She gasped and I growled in response, sucking, licking, and using my teeth sparingly while my fingers kneaded and teased. It both pleased and aroused me to win small sounds of pleasure from her. One of her long legs had hooked around mine and I gave in to the temptation to press myself against her thigh. She tensed momentarily but then seemed to relax and pulled me up to meet her for another kiss. She met me open mouthed and it was odd to me, as I returned that kiss that she had no taste of her own, either. I cursed when she transferred her mouth to my neck and began exploring the muscles of my back with one hand.

”Fitz,” the Fool whispered against my neck, her breath making the wet marks of her kisses feel cold, “Is this wise?”

”Don't. Speak with your own voice, please.” I requested, holding myself up with one arm and using my free hand to stroke her side again and brush my thumb over her nipple.

”Is this wise?” She repeated in a voice I'd never heard before. Higher than the Fool's, of course, and similar to Amber's. I shifted so that I could kiss her on the mouth, “When have we ever been wise?” I asked before kissing her again.

”I love you.” She said, and I leaned down to bite her neck gently. I kissed it in apology and she whimpered beneath me. Her breathing was deep and fast. Unsure of how long I could make myself wait, I slid a hand between us and began to explore the folds of her vagina. She was both like and unlike other women I'd known and I'd soon figured out, by her reactions, where to concentrate my efforts. It was difficult to lean down and kiss her simultaneously, but I did. The Fool shifted and reached to touch me. I was not sure if it was wise. I ached with need and feeling the Fool tremble beneath me, the warmth of her wet and swollen vagina in contrast to the coldness of the rest of her skin, and the sound of her panting breaths was already tormenting my self-control.

She was clumsy and tentative, her grip rather loose at first then more firm as she became more confident. It had been a long time, and I groaned. I leaned down and kissed her demandingly. To my delight, she responded enthusiastically and challenged my dominance. I pulled her hand away from me and removed mine from her to pin her down more firmly as I guided myself to her entrance. She tensed immediately as I entered her and my gasp of pleasure mingled with her cry of pain. I longed to move, but forced myself to stay still inside of her. I leaned down to press kisses to her brow and cheeks. I even kissed her on the tip of her nose and was rewarded by a shaky smile. Experimentally, I pushed deeper inside of her but stilled when she tried to pull away. “Are you all right?” I asked, giving her another kiss.

”I can see why you were raised in the stables.” She jested with a smile that was half wince.

”Do you want to stop?” I asked. It was the second last thing that I wanted to do, but I was hurting her and that was the last thing I wanted.

I was relieved when she shook her head in the negative. I kissed her again, slowly and gently. I massaged her breasts and kissed her neck and rubbed small circles on her hip bone with my thumb. Gradually, she relaxed and surprised me by urging me forward with a leg around my waist. She buried her face in my neck as I thrust forward. I was more gentle with her than I had ever been. Molly and I had explored and learned together, Starling and Jinna had been experienced and not uncertain at all. I was as slow as I could bear and we shared kisses and caresses. The Fool kept her eyes on my face the entire time and her hands touched my hair, my arms, my sides, anywhere she could reach, as though she could not help herself.

Before long, the Fool had begun squirming and whimpering beneath me and pushed her hips up to meet mine. It was incredible. I quickened my pace and bent my head down to kiss her again, breathlessly. She returned it passionately. I pulled away, braced myself with one arm and slipped the other between us to press against her as I thrust deep inside of her. “Beloved... Fitz, I-,” her breath caught and she shuddered. I bent to kiss her again and continued to thrust until my own climax took me. I buried myself within her as I finished and my hips gave a few more small jerks. I panted and blinked a few times, looking down at the Fool. Her eyes were wide and her swollen lips were slightly parted. Her chin and cheeks were red where the stubble of my beard had scratched her. I would shave next time. Carefully, I gave her another kiss as I pulled myself free of her. I smiled at her uncertainly. As usual, she found words to say where I could not. She swallowed then leaned up to give me a kiss, “That was wonderful, Fitz.” A small grimace, “But rather messier than I expected.”

”I'll grab a wash cloth...” I offered, blushing. I was flattered that her eyes followed me while I left the bed and retrieved one. We cleaned ourselves off and the Fool retrieved her clothing, embarrassedly. I caught a glimpse of a dragon's wing before she'd covered herself. She was lightly muscled and thin, but softened a bit at the slight curve of her hips and breasts. I sat down at the edge of the bed again and put my hands on either side of her waist, pulling her down to sit next to me. I kissed the frown from her brow. “You're beautiful.”

She seemed uncomfortable at the praise and looked away, “Will you still think so in the morning?”

”I will. I promise I will.”

”Will you stay with me tonight?”

I did.


	10. What is Hidden

_I saw my end last night, in a way that was different from all of the other ways I have seen it. If this new possibility can emerge from the depths, can transform from a breath of wind to a gale, perhaps the opposite is equally possible._

Eighty-third sheet of vellum recovered from a chest in Buckkeep castle.

I woke late in the morning, still naked and covered by the Fool's blankets. I had thrown an arm over her in sleep and she had nestled herself against my chest. For a moment I was struck dumb by what I had done the night previous. Never would I have imagined myself bedding the Fool, female or otherwise. How must I have seemed to her? Begging to have her because I was, what, lonely? A more pathetic proposition I could not imagine. But she had shown me her love for me and she had enjoyed it, hadn't she? Like me, the Fool was awake but saying nothing. What had I done? Our friendship would never be the same, but perhaps the change could be for the better. Why had I not just gone to sleep when she'd suggested it? Would I ask her to marry me? Was it possible for us, deep as we were in court intrigue to have a happy relationship? Our friendship had survived and thrived, despite our several arguments. Could a romantic relationship?

My worries were made worse when I became aware of how the Fool's breath shuddered. I pulled away and looked at her. Her hand was clasped over her mouth and silent tears were leaving glistening trails down her cheeks. I was alarmed. “Fool? Why are you crying?” My heart sank. Did she regret what we had done?

Her amber eyes flickered up to my face and for a moment, her expression was so stricken that I felt sure that she regretted it. My spirits plummeted. Potential relationship and friendship both would likely be lost to me. Perhaps she saw my thoughts reflected in my own expression, because she took her hand from her mouth, threw her arm around me and embraced me. Her tears were cool against my chest.

I was confused, but she'd used her own voice and her embrace gave me some hope, “What is it? What troubles you? Did I hurt you?”

I felt her shake her head and I tentatively stroked her hair. To my alarm she began to sob. I took my hand away and settled it on her back instead, completely at a loss. “Please don't cry. At least tell me what's wrong so that I can help.”

”What price is this?” I heard her whimper, “I can't make that choice. I can't.”

”What?” I frowned, rubbing her back, “Fool, talk to me.”

She took a shuddering breath and sniffled. It took her a moment before she responded, “Just a bad dream. That's all.”

I understood bad dreams. I nodded and held her close to me, continuing to rub her back in what I hoped was a soothing manner. I felt relieved that she was not upset with me, but was concerned all the same. What dream could have moved the Fool to such tears? Worse, I knew not how to comfort her. “You're awake now,” I tried, “It's gone.”

”No, it isn't,” The Fool whispered through her tears. I held her and let her cry. She pulled away from me when she'd composed herself and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe. “I am glad that you stayed. Thank you.”

”Of course.” I frowned. “Of course I stayed.” I brushed my thumb along her chin, “You're still a bit red. I'm sorry.”

She hiccupped a laugh and wiped her eyes again, “You should shave more often.”

”I will next time.”

She took a few breaths and cleared her throat. “This is probably not how you'd expected the morning to go.”

”Well, it could have gone much worse.” I said, awkwardly. “Do you have bad dreams often?”

”Not all are bad, but those that are torment me more frequently of late. Were I more impartial, perhaps I could witness those horrors and say, 'Ah, I see, this is what awaits,' but at some point I seem to have lost that ability. So as I try to ponder their meanings and their place in the tapestry of time, what threads I must pull to change the course, I am filled not with excitement, but with terror.”

I shook my head. I did not understand her when she spoke that way. But, was I willing to accept her prescience when it suited me but disregard it when it did not? When I confronted that thought, I felt shame. A part of me still resisted, though. The notion of Prophets and Catalysts, as well as what I'd seen of the Fool's visions and sicknesses, certainly seemed like an illness of the mind and body to my logical mind. It was also difficult to accept that my closest friend and now more was mad. I could accept neither option. I did not wish to argue, though, and was it not easier to play along? I kissed her brow, marveling briefly at the strangeness of the action. Only the day before it would have been unthinkable. “It seems to me that no matter what horrors we have faced in the past, always you have found a way to save us.”

”The cost is too high, Fitz, I do not know if I can stand it.”

”We'll figure it out.” I frowned, “You had carryme in your tea the other day.”

The Fool sat up and wiped at her eyes again. I sat up as well, feeling a bit self-conscious at my state of undress. “Yes,” she admitted, “But it did not help.”

My frown deepened as I remembered, “You had a number of herbs in your desk drawer as well. How many things have you tried?”

”Many. Oh, don't look like that. I am a Fool, but not foolish.”

I sighed, “I could try to find a suitable mix of herbs for you. I'd prefer that to you continuing to experiment on your own. I know that you are well read, but it is likely that I've more knowledge of possible... unpleasant effects.”

She shook her head and smiled thinly, “No, worry not, Fitzy. I will not be attempting any further experimentation. I doubt that it would have helped, and it was selfish of me to run from my duties. Refusing the Dreams would only put us at a disadvantage.”

”If you are certain,” I said, though inwardly I was relieved.

The Fool shifted and pushed the blankets aside so that she could sit cross legged beside me. She looked at me with a serious expression, “There must be a way. The tiniest thread, the smallest ripple. I will find it.” Uneasily, I nodded and the Fool smiled at me, “Yes. I will and then everything will be all right. And with a Catalyst such as you, how could I fail? Surely it is impossible!” She was suddenly as animated and lively as she had been devastated moments before. Still, I thought that I saw desperation at its root. She leaned forward and kissed me soundly, then pulled away sporting a mischievous smile that made my heart flip, “Go and shave, Fitz.”

Dazed and baffled by her abrupt change in spirits, but glad that she seemed happy, I rose and did as she bid me, while she sat at her writing desk and took out vellum, pen, and ink. If I gave myself more cuts than usual, I did not regret my haste. She tutted over my small wounds and kissed me deeply, “Much better.”

I resolved to make up for my ungentlemanly behaviour the night before, and I like to think that I did.

I missed both drill and Skill lessons that day, but could not bring myself to care. My earlier uncertainty had been replaced by a rare optimism. Yes, I had made a bit of a fool of myself the day before, but the result was not unfavourable. It was hard to see any down sides at all, really. A part of me wondered if this new development was not at least a little bit unfair to the Fool, but I knew that I loved her as a friend, and I would not treat her badly. We were both firmly stuck in the politics of court, and the Fool knew all of my secrets, so they would not be obstacles as they had been during my relationship with Molly. I doubted that I would have the life that I'd dreamed of, but it would be a life and it might even be a good one.

I made a stop in the kitchens. Of late, if I desired a quick meal, I would stop in the men-at-arms room or raid the pantry, but my feet had carried me there instead. As Lord Golden's servant I had come and gone, fetching and returning trays, so I was familiar with the new staff and flow of people in the large room. As usual, the place was bustling with activity. No sooner did one meal end than the preparations for the next began. I wondered how anyone could enjoy a job like that, then thought back to my boyhood. I'd spent quite a lot of time honing my spying skills in the kitchens, and by expressing an interest in their lives and the gossip that they offered, I had earned the reputation of 'a good lad' among the staff. There were occasional squabbles, but the kitchen staff were largely joined by their profession and had common challenges and complaints to commiserate over. They gossiped while beating dough or assembling pastries, and seemed to take satisfaction in well-received meals. It was a bit like a family, I reflected, and was startled out of my musing by a tap on my arm. I turned to behold Cook Sara, aged but no less the ruler of this domain, holding a plate and regarding me with a complicated expression.

I glanced around myself, “Excuse me. Was I in the way?”

Cook Sara pressed her lips together and thrust the plate at me, “Had a few things extra, and the new girl doesn't quite know how to fold the dough for these little ones just right. Wouldn't do to let it all go to waste.”

I looked down at the plate and took it. It was heaped with tarts, both sweet and savoury, and a mound of little pastries that did look a little bit lopsided. One quarter of the plate was taken up by ginger cakes. I looked from the plate to Cook Sara, who was beginning to look a bit teary. She scowled at me and made a shooing motion, “Go on, lad. The girls have a lunch to prepare and don't need you taking up space.”

”Thank you,” I said, finally finding words.

She nodded, more to herself, it seemed, than me, and made her way back to a flock of girls who were assembling trays of desserts. I left the kitchens holding my lunch, and feeling happier than I had in a long time.

I went to the Women's Garden to eat my lunch, and I savoured it. The pastry of the tarts was buttery, golden brown, and flakey, and the fruit filled ones were both tart and sweet in a pleasant way. The ginger cakes, I saved for last. I wished that Nighteyes were there to share with. They had always been his favourites too.

I had finished eating and was enjoying the cool spring day, when the approach of footsteps signaled that I had company. It was not unusual for people of the court to stroll through the gardens, so I was not alarmed. I cast my gaze in that direction and then really was alarmed when I saw Starling walking determinedly in my direction. I had obviously seen her and could not depart without being horribly rude, so I rose and gave her a bow, hoping that she would pass me by. She did not. She halted and gave me a satisfied smile that bewildered me. Our last meeting had, I hoped, smoothed the rift between us, but it still had not been entirely pleasant. She'd confessed that she'd been hoping for an offer of marriage from me, and I had attempted to smooth her ruffled feathers while maintaining that I thought of her as friend only. I wondered what she wanted with me now.

”Good afternoon, Starling,” I greeted, cautiously.

Her smile grew wider, and it reminded me of a cat with a bird in it's jaws, “Good afternoon, Fitz. I heard that you were out here. I've come to tell you that I forgive you.”

I blinked, “You forgive me?”

”Yes. So there's no need to apologize for avoiding me or for refusing to bed with me.” The minstrel declared, grandly.

”Oh. Well, thank you...”

Starling carried on, “Or for keeping secrets from me. Cockle says that men can be terribly irrational when they find out a woman they thought was theirs has another lover.”

I bypassed the issue of my supposed irrationality entirely, “Cockle. The witted minstrel, right? You two have become friends?”

”Oh, I should say so.” Starling tossed her hair over her shoulder and seated herself on the bench I'd been using. I hesitated, checking for witnesses, before sitting down beside her. “I demanded to be released from my vows to Lord Dewin and he was only too happy to oblige.” There was bitterness in her voice and against my will and better judgement, I felt sorry for her.

”I'm sorry.” I fumbled awkwardly for words, “I know that you'd had high hopes for the marriage.”

”It isn't your fault.” Starling sighed, “And it's your own loss that it isn't your fault.”

I could think of nothing to say to that. Had I not, just the night before, been contemplating whether I could have loved Starling and made a life with her if I had not given my memories to Girl on a Dragon?

Starling continued in my silence, “I just wanted to let you know that we could still be friends.”

”Starling.” I objected, “I do not think that it would be appropriate for us to -” 

”Fitz.” She cut me off, “I said friends, not lovers. I'm going to do things right this time.”

I was relieved, “Oh, well...”

She frowned, “You could at least look a bit disappointed! I'm going to be angry with you all over again if you keep that up! Oh, _Starling_ , who would want to lay with that tired, old mare? Thank goodness I won't have to! Your face says it all!”

”I'm sorry, I just, well, I'm surprised.”

She huffed, “Well, you'd best get used to the idea quickly if we're going to be aboard a ship together for weeks and weeks on end.”

I was thrown for another loop, “You don't mean that you're coming with us.”

”Of course I mean that I'm coming! The young prince sets forth to slay a dragon and win the heart of a foreign princess? It already sounds like a minstrel's tale, and I intend to make it mine!”

”But I thought that you already wrote your epic song. You're the Queen's favoured minstrel, you will never want for anything.”

She gave me a patient sigh, “A minstrel does not just write one or two songs and call it a day, Fitz. Sometimes I wonder what I ever saw in you. Besides, _someone_ won't allow me to sing my epic song.”

I sighed too and shook my head, “Well I suppose it wouldn't do any harm for you to sing it now. Everyone already knows that I live. It might make things a bit easier if people didn't think I was going to eat their children.”

Starling gave me a look, “I'm still coming on the voyage. I've already got Queen Kettricken's permission!”

”I'm sure that I couldn't stop you.”

”You couldn't,” Starling confirmed. She brushed her fingers through her hair and then gave me a sideways look, “I heard that a girl called Nettle has come to train for the guard.”

”A coincidence.”

Starling narrowed her eyes, “She rode in with former Stablemaster Burrich. You're really going to have to stop this reflexive secret keeping. It makes you look like an idiot.” I blushed at having been caught so easily but said nothing. Starling prodded me, “Do you want to talk about it?”

”Not particularly.”

Starling frowned, “You are going to tell her, aren't you? That she's your daughter and basically a princess?”

I shook my head, “It's better that she not know for now. She's been brought here to be kept safe and educated. Letting it be known that she is my daughter would only make things more difficult for her.”

”Well, I would want to know if I was a princess,” Starling chided me, then her gaze went to the trees and she smiled, “A secret princess, trained in battle to defend her kingdom. She'll prove herself in war and then it will be revealed that she's of royal birth. It's the stuff songs are made from! I'll be keeping my eye on her.”

”Let's hope you're wrong. I could live without seeing war again in my life time.”

Starling huffed, “There is always war sooner or later. If it isn't with the Chalcedeans, it'll be the Outislanders again, or the Bingtowners will send their army of dragons to destroy us for refusing to aid them.”

”Well, I'll still hope that we avoid all of that. What do you mean 'army of dragons'?”

”The Outislanders were calling the Bingtowners dragon breeders during the betrothal ceremony,” Starling pointed out. “Apparently they're raising a whole army.”

I shook my head, “That's ridiculous. There are young dragons, true, but they cannot even fly.”

”Tell that to the Outislanders. It may help Kettricken's mission to make peace with all of our neighbors.”

I had to smile at that. Kettricken's mountain upbringing had given her a different outlook than our past Six Duchies rulers, “The Six Duchies have been isolated for so long that it is probably best to move that goal forward slowly. Like getting a dog used to a new home. If we change too much too quickly, the people may become unsettled.”

I was confused when Starling laughed, “A stableboy who should have been king. You could have done a lot more with your life, you know.”

It was uncomfortably true and I looked away, my gaze drifting to the new leaves on the trees, “Yes. Perhaps. I cannot change it now, though, and I am not sure if I would want to.”

Starling huffed and rose, “No ambition. It's a real shame, you know. Queen Kettricken is wonderful, but she is not Six Duchies. There's talk in a lot of the taverns that her mountain ways will be our downfall.”

”You don't believe that.” I frowned. Such talk was bordering on treasonous.

”No, I don't, but it's not my opinion that matters. What would I know, though? I'm only a minstrel.” She rose and smoothed her morning gown.

”Minstrels should not be overlooked as a source of knowledge.” I looked up at her, wondering if I had been underestimating the woman.

She smirked, “I know that. I wasn't sure if you did, though. Good day, Fitz.”

I reported her bit of news to Chade that evening. The old man was sitting in his cushioned chair with a glass of wine, frowning into the fire.

”It is hardly new news that the people have mixed feelings about our more open trade and fledgling alliances. The people's enmity with Chalced seems to be distracting them from those issues for the moment. My reports say that men have even been recruited in the coastal duchies to join in the skirmishes. Lady Faith, in particular, has been surprisingly enthusiastic in building up a military force. Still, with only five days left before we sail, it is troubling that I will not be here to keep an eye on things. If you'd had Nettle brought here earlier, perhaps she might have been useful as a pair of eyes and ears in the keep, or an intermediary between my apprentice and myself.”

I shook my head, “Perhaps I will be able to get some information from her, but she will be busy with her own duties. As for communicating with your other apprentice, knowing too many secrets is dangerous. I will not allow you to involve her in our line of work like that.”

Chade scowled, “It is useless to have a Skilled one and not take advantage of her Skill.”

”We will be using it, but not in that way,” I said, firmly. I frowned as I recalled another thing, “Speaking of inappropriate use of the Skill, I know that you tried to use it on the Fool yesterday.”

Chade's scowl deepened, “Hardly inappropriate. The Skill is the magic of the Farseers to be used for the service of the Farseers.”

”The Fool is not an enemy to be interrogated, Chade.”

”Are you sure of that, Fitz?” My old mentor asked, leaning forward to peer at me intently.

His sudden switch from defense to offense surprised me, yet he did not seem aggressive in his query. The pity in his eyes was what alarmed me. It was my turn to scowl, “Yes, I am.”

”I know that you disapprove, but our profession does not allow us the luxury of moral objection. We do what must be done in the service of the crown. What I saw in that man was not benevolence, nor was it ruthlessness. If his prescience is madness, then it is a convincing delusion. If it is not, then it is more terrifying than madness.” Chade rubbed his hands together, soothing the aches in his old bones, and met my eyes. A shiver went up my spine. I was not sure that I wanted to hear what he would say, but he continued before I could decide if I would object. “Like us, he will do what must be done, regardless of his own feelings, in order to achieve his ends. Unlike us, he is capable of disregarding almost every human being as expendable. I saw for a time, the births and deaths of every life that has been or could be, and I saw the great balance of possibilities that can be altered with only a word. Human lives are no longer those of individuals, but grains of sand poured onto a scale, and on the other side of that balance is the usefulness of their decisions in achieving a future. Only a few people are useful enough for their specific life or death to have weight alone.”

I interrupted his troubling speech, “The Fool told me that everyone changes the world with their decisions. He seemed to place great importance in the choices of individuals of every rank.”

”They do,” Chade explained, “As every grain of sand contributes to the weight on the scale.”

”You aren't making any sense.” I growled, frustrated. It was bad enough that the Fool spoke in riddles.

Chade nodded, “It is a difficult thing to explain in words. I will say only that to him, the ends justify the means.”

”So are you saying that you believe he is a White Prophet and I am his catalyst?” I challenged.

I had expected the usual dismissive snort. Instead Chade leaned back in his chair and spoke gravely, “Unfortunately, I do.”

”Why unfortunately?”

Chade answered me with a question of his own, “If I told you that, in my opinion, a world where humans were enslaved and used as little more than mules or cattle was the best possible outcome, would you agree?”

”No.” I frowned, “The Fool does not condone slavery either.”

”A debate for another time, boy. Listen to me. You do not agree with what I have said. In fact, I am sure the idea of that horrifies you, you being a sensible lad. Now, if I had the means to make that future a reality, regardless of your opinion and regardless of the lives it may cost, simply because of my own opinion, would that not be a frightening thing?”

”Yes, I suppose it would. But, Chade, it sounds as though it is the power that you are afraid of. The Fool would never think slavery or suffering to be good, and he has told me that his goal is to see that the Farseer line survives. Does that not work in your favour?”

”If only that were all. I could sleep easily then!” Chade reached for his wine and downed it in a single frustrated swallow. “I ask that you be careful, Fitz. If I accept the Fool's prescience, then I must also accept that you are the tool with which he exerts his influence. Do not follow his manipulations blindly. I would see the Farseers survive, but I would not see dragons making hollow-eyed monsters of us.”

I was silent for a time. It was bizarre that Chade would accept the Fool's powers. If Chade believed her, then it was almost impossible for me to cling to my disbelief. Gradually, I felt my mind accept the notion. I had seen the Fool's predictions and warnings come to pass since I was a child, and I had sought her help making my decision about Nettle, but always I had held back. Just that morning, I feared to allow myself to believe. Why? As the weight of my acceptance settled on me and a sense of loss accompanied it, I realized the answer. To accept the Fool's prescience and my role as Catalyst meant giving up the life that I had always yearned for. Like a tree burrows its roots into the ground, so the court had sunk its roots into me. The thought that I would never be free of them was distressing. But was my fear a reasonable one? I resolved that I would ask the Fool.

Chade spoke again, interrupting my thoughts, “If your death was necessary, he would grieve for you, but he would see that it happened. Even his own death. For years I served Shrewd in that way, so I know that such dedication cannot be persuaded. It can only be stopped.”

”Are you planning to stop the Fool, Chade?”

He did not answer me, and I knew that it was only so that if directly questioned, I would not be able to say that he'd told me one way or the other. Another thought occurred to me, “Is that why you will not open yourself enough to Skill-ride with me? You fear I would discover your plan and warn the Fool?”

”I will not test your loyalty, Fitz. I know that, though you would do you duty in the end, making the decision would be hard on you.” I watched as his eyes flickered to the fruit knife from so long ago, still stuck in the mantle, “Better that you remain ignorant.”


	11. A Tryst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I vanished for a while. Please forgive me!

_Some were swallowed by the sea, and some were consumed by the fallen leaves. The entire landscape was drenched in red._

The final days before our journey to the Outislands flew by. The tasks that had been set aside because there was still plenty of time were suddenly urgent, and the keep was abuzz with activity as decorations were hung, guests arrived, and gifts for potential trading partners were paraded in and out of the castle. For the newly appointed Prince's Guard, it was a time of longer practices and instruction on ship-board fighting that was somehow carried out on dry land. I approved of Longwick's decision to prepare for the worst-case scenario despite the chance that the men's morale might be hurt. Better to be alive and disappointed than dead. One man jested that we ought to be training with picks and shovels, and a part of me was inclined to agree with him too. Either the quest would be an Outislander trap, futile, or would result in the slaying of a dragon. The first two options were the most popular.

The focus of the nobility was naturally much different. Whether the narcheska's challenge was a girl's fancy or a serious danger was of little consequence, save to those who had placed a wager on the outcome. The exceptions were those closest to Lord Golden, but even they were more interested in trade and profit. Lord Golden himself, to my disappointment, was busier than ever with social events. It was difficult to find the Fool for always she arose earlier than I did and spent much of the evening among the people of the keep or town. Whether she sought to put events into motion or was simply enjoying herself, I cannot say, and it was impossible to ask when we only saw one another in passing. It irritated me that our new physical closeness had been followed so swiftly by such distance, but it was not entirely of the Fool's doing. My mornings and afternoons were taken up with training, and my evenings and much of my nights were spent in Chade's employ, helping him perfect his exploding powder or mixing herbs to bring with us on the voyage. When I entered the Fool's chambers in the darkest hours of the night, my hopeful taps at her bedchamber door were unanswered, and I did not presume to enter uninvited.

Eventually, I became restless enough to neglect my duties and try my luck visiting just before lunch. If I was fortunate, I would catch her before she left to some party or other. As I raised my fist to knock on the heavy wooden door, I was startled by it opening. I stepped aside to let an equally startled Lord Thistle pass. The Fool smiled to see me and pulled the door open wider. “Badgerlock! You have good timing.”

I entered and the Fool shut the door behind me. “You were entertaining Thistle,” I observed.

The Fool hummed a response and glided over to the side of her chair. She turned to face me, then let herself fall backwards, loose limbed, so that her feet dangled over one arm of the chair, and her head over the other. “The man was terribly uncertain about going through with the voyage, and thought that he might go home instead. I convinced him to change his mind. It has been tiring getting everything in order, but I think that I've done quite well, if I do say so myself!” She kicked her feet into the air, well pleased with herself.

I scowled. It stung that the Fool had made time for Thistle, but I'd barely seen her. I settled myself into my own chair properly, “You've been busy.”

”I have,” she agreed, “Very busy indeed!” She surprised me then by kicking her legs into the air again and somehow managing to flip and land upright on the floor without toppling the chair. She grinned at me, “Do cheer up, Fitzy. Your expression could frighten small children. Everything is in order! I can feel it. The smallest shadow under the water, the suggestion of a fish, and I coax it along with the gentlest of currents, no, with a breeze and grains of sand that change the current, and eventually the whole river changes. It is very satisfying.” She sat again, looking triumphant for a moment, then deflating into a rather haunted looking expression, “As long as I do not think too deeply on some things, of course. Not to alarm you, dear Fitzy, but we came rather close to disaster.”

My annoyance had been drowned in bewilderment after the first few sentences. I decided that I would at least attempt to follow along. “Are these the same fish you mentioned making friends with before?” 

The Fool blinked and seemed to break free of whatever thought had claimed her attention. She looked at me in wide-eyed silence for a moment and then laughed. “Fitz...” She looked about to say more, then shook her head and smiled fondly. I felt no flutter of the heart, and I looked guiltily away from the affection there. I felt the Fool's eyes on me and I hoped that I masked my thoughts well enough.

The Fool made no comment, but rose fluidly and came to stand before me so that we were nearly breast to breast. I finally allowed my gaze to be drawn to hers, and even my guilty thoughts did not dissuade me from taking what she offered me.

I was the guilty recipient of another display of affection as well. Nettle found me outside of Patience's quarters later that afternoon, and pulled me aside with a gentle tug on my sleeve. We retreated to a narrow servant's corridor before she spoke. “Will you go for a walk with me?”

I hesitated. Should I? The possibility of anyone discovering that she was my daughter were slim, realistically. Especially since Burrich had been the one to bring her to the keep. She had enough of his temper and mannerisms that her Farseer features could be overlooked. It had been long since there'd been a princess. I nodded.

We walked at a sedate pace through the Women's gardens. We laughed together when our passage through a more secluded area startled first a kitchen girl and then a stable boy from their hiding place. We laughed all the harder when one of the blacksmith's apprentices darted away a moment later. Few words were spoken. She'd made a few friends, and was fitting in better than she had expected with the pages. “It's just like being at home, I've got so many brothers,” she explained. She was old for it, but with her tenacity, I was sure that she would soon be a squire. I did not speak the thought aloud, but I was glad that she was kept more with the children. It kept her from the company of the common soldiers and the older boys that might take an interest in her.

”There is to be a feast tonight,” I observed, “Are you excited?”

Nettle frowned and answered honestly, “I am, but I am nervous as well. Lady Patience has been doing her best to teach me, but I just don't see the point of all of these manners and formalities. It's a meal! One could starve trying to figure out the polite way to eat it.”

I laughed, “It is a tedious thing. You will get used to it, though.”

”Did you?” She asked, looking up at me, “When you first came here?”

”I had little to do with manners and etiquette at first, but I did get used to it eventually.”

Nettle nodded, but said nothing. She was normally quite talkative, and when the silence stretched I asked, “Is all well?”

My daughter avoided my gaze, keeping her eyes to the path as we walked it, “You never told me that you were a prince.”

My eyebrows shot skyward, “I am a guardsman, not a prince.”

Nettle shook her head, “You are called Tom Badgerlock now, but everyone whispers your secret name. FitzChivalry Farseer. Perry was the one who told me after the others started asking questions.”

Several heartbeats passed before I was able to breathe again. The Fool had recommended that I tell her of her Skill, but would that be enough to allow her to put things together? All was not lost. She knew my name but she did not know her own connection to me. I would need to keep it that way. “That is a past long buried, Nettle, and even then I was not a prince. Only a bastard.”

”Are you really going to challenge Prince Dutiful for the throne?” She demanded quietly.

”What? Of course not.” I was baffled. “Are people really saying that?”

She nodded, “Yes. It is close to the time when the Prince would be named King with the consent of his dukes. People are talking of your sudden return as a sign that you wish to claim that title for yourself.”

”That's ridiculous,” I snorted. 

”They say that you're behind the Piebald's attacks. That they're your army.”

I shook my head adamantly, “Nothing could be further from the truth, Nettle. They nearly killed me.”

Nettle looked thoughtful. I could not tell if she was disappointed or not. In silent agreement, we came to a halt and sat down on one of the numerous benches. “I've heard all of the tales... I'm still angry with you for hiding it, but I can understand. You did not want that to colour our relationship. Am I right?”

She was more right than she knew. I nodded, “You should not pay attention to tales, Nettle. The odds are that they are either grossly exaggerated or have no foundation in truth at all.”

”I am not a child,” she asserted, frowning at me. I hastened to smooth her ruffled feathers.

”I know that. I just meant that most of the tales are complete nonsense.”

She huffed in a way that suggested I was a bit slow, “Well, I know that. Here. I have something for you.” She reached into a pocket sewn into her dress and withdrew a handkerchief. I took it from her carefully. She'd taken the time to embroider a running wolf onto one corner, and I ran a finger over the tiny stitches. I was touched.

”Thank you, Nettle.”

”It's for luck,” she told me, “I know it is not much, but I am told it is something that ladies do for their men before they go off to battle.”

”I doubt that there will be much of a battle, but thank you. I'll treasure it.” A gift from my daughter. I could not help but smile as I folded the token and put it into my breast pocket. “I'm sorry that I did not get anything for you.”

Nettle returned my smile, “You've done more for me than anyone ever has. I would not be here were it not for you.”

”I haven't done much,” I corrected, truthfully.

”It has meant much to me,” Nettle said, then surprised me by leaning over and pressing a kiss to my slightly whiskery cheek. “Farewell, Shadow Wolf! We will see one another in our dreams, but I will miss you all the same.”

She made a hasty departure while I was still processing what had happened.

Chade laughed heartily when I told him what had happened. I scowled at him as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “Oh, Fitz my boy. Never in all of my years.” He chuckled again, “You'll have no choice but to tell her that you're her father now.”

”I can't tell her that!” I protested, “I'm just going to... I don't know. Tell her something.”

”Yes, I suppose that you could do that instead.” Chade agreed, good naturedly, “Of course, when she does find out, you'll have lied to her as well as broken her heart.”

I groaned. “I'm just going to leave it. Hopefully while I'm gone she'll have turned her attentions elsewhere.”

”I suppose that I could arrange something...” Chade pondered aloud. I was already shaking my head.

”No. I won't have you meddling with my daughter's heart.”

”You do make things difficult for yourself, boy.” Chade huffed, carefully transferring a crucible from the fire to the work bench. 

”Haven't you already perfected your exploding powder?” I asked, gesturing to the small kegs he had stacked in a corner.

”It never hurts to be sure. We will not be able to afford any mishaps when we arrive.”

I nodded to the old man's wisdom and watched, nervously, as he packed the dried powder into a tiny vial. “Or on board the ship.”

”There too,” Chade agreed. “We shall both have to tread lightly. It is a shame about those damned rumours. It would have been useful to use you as an extra set of ears among the nobles.”

”You've Lord Golden for that,” I reminded him.

There were a few incoherent grumbles as Chade began to sift through a stack of parchment that had been shoved to the side of the work bench. “On second thought, Fitz, it might not be a bad idea to have you move among them for a time. We wanted to establish that you were not a threat to the crown, but perhaps you could ferret out other rumours of treachery if you were to make yourself... available for conversation.”

”Do you suspect something?”

”At times I do, and then at times it seems that I am only chasing shadows.” The correct piece of parchment was withdrawn and then placed on top of yet another pile. Chade's system of organization was still a mystery to me. “The only sure thing is that there is discontent among the nobility.”

”And the people?” I asked.

”Just the usual property disputes and petty grievances that are brought before Kettricken for mediation. A few accusations of a Witted one bewitching a flock of sheep or some such nonsense Nothing to suggest any ill will towards the crown.” Chade shook his head. “Dutiful has not yet begun to travel amongst his people, and though Kettricken is well loved for her actions during the war, she is still not of Six Duchies blood. A few fanatics will grumble, but most are content to live their lives without worrying too much about the goings on in court.” Once I had yearned for such a life, but even at my cottage it would have been impossible for me to shrug off any news that did reach me. While I contemplated what it would be like to truly have no interest beyond my own day to day life, Chade continued to speak. “But we digress. Our attempts at easing FitzChivalry Farseer into the quiet life of a guardsman might have worked if we had more time. The people would have gotten used to you and the rumours that are floating about now would have vanished. Unfortunately, we do not have the luxury of time, and the rumours still fly.”

”Well then, what do you suggest?”

Chade drummed his fingers on the work bench. “Not much can be done while we are out at sea, unfortunately. But, that could work to our advantage as well. I suggest that you begin to cultivate some acquaintances among the nobility that will be traveling with us. It is an excellent opportunity. Without incriminating yourself, see if you could determine where they stand.”

I had been in a similar situation before. Before Regal's king-in-waiting ceremony, I had been approached by Duke Brawndy. He wanted to put Buckkeep into my control after Regal departed to Tradeford. I nodded to Chade. “Alright. I understand. As long as no one chucks me overboard, I'll see what I can learn.”

”If you do it tactfully you won't have to worry about that.” Chade gave me a dirty look. “ What have I trained you for, boy?”

”Killing people. Spying.” I grumbled.

”Exactly. You had more difficult missions before your fifteenth year. If your confidence has waned, I could set you to stealing sheers again.”

I snorted, “I'll get the information.”

”Good. You may think me a foolish old man, but one does not get to be my age in this court without a good supply of caution.”

It was true, and I did not argue the point though it seemed to me that his caution was in excess. What seemed a more pressing concern was the increasing tension regarding the wit. It had felt like a victory when the Witted delegation survived the peace talks without being poisoned, and when the Piebalds were included. It seemed to make the un-witted folk nervous, though. Certainly some had benefitted from Web's teachings and the inclusion of witted servants in the castle's staff, but that positive influence was counterbalanced by as many negative opinions and the positive did not seem to have spread far beyond the castle walls. I voiced my concern.

”You mentioned that people are still voicing fears about the Witted. What is being done about the accusations?”

Chade sighed and moved toward the comfortable side of the room. I followed. When he was seated and wine had been poured, Chade answered me. “The present tactic is to ask for information and try to find alternative explanations for the supposed wrong doing. Web will sit in and be asked for his opinion on whether the crime is even possible for a witted one to commit. He is often accused of protecting his own. If it is theoretically possible, then there still must be proof before a decision of guilty can be given. But what proof can someone offer of magic being done? It can come down to word against word, and people believe that they are being treated unfairly when no decision can be reached. We cannot offer compensation, lest we have every soul in the countryside bringing forward false accusations, but Kettricken does what she can.”

I nodded. “That does seem difficult. At least people are attempting to make use of Kettricken's judgment in these cases, though, rather than having the witted one quartered and burned.”

”We'll see how long it lasts, if people do not perceive that the Queen's justice is in fact just. I keep telling her that we should be giving out more punishments so that the people will have some faith, but she insists on giving the benefit of the doubt more often than not.”

”That doesn't seem fair. Couldn't punishing witted ones to keep the un-witted people happy just give the Piebalds more reason to hate us?”

”It's better than hanging over water.”

”True, but it still isn't fair.”

”Small steps at a time, Fitz. You've always been so impatient. Yes, I know it isn't fair. Nevertheless, it's less than execution and it gives the illusion of justice done for the wronged party.”

The illusion of justice. I shook my head. “Something has to be done to stop all of this.”

”I'm all ears, Fitz.” Chade grouched, “By all means, tell me what I should be doing, if your'e so very clever.”

I scowled and looked away, unable to think of anything.

Chade was satisfied by my silence. “One thing at a time. Let's get this blasted alliance assured first. The rest has kept for years now, and it will keep a few more weeks. Have you finished packing? Did you remember all of your tools?”

”Yes, Chade.”

Not that I anticipated much need for them at sea. Perhaps during the meeting with the Hetgurd, but I hoped that my skills would be unnecessary. I wondered if the Outislanders had assassins of their own that we should be watchful for.

That night, I slept in the barracks with the rest of the Prince's guard. I ignored Nettle's presence outside of my walls and Thick's song in the Skill current. I thought that I sensed Chade, too, and wondered briefly what he was practicing. I would berate him for being careless later. I fell into sleep within minutes, and I dreamed of flying.


	12. Riddle

_An oak grew from a mother willow. And then the oak fell and the red bird fell too, with no more oak to hold it up. The willow was made into bark paper. The paper was buried and a new willow grew._

I didn't notice until the boat had already been launched. The morning of our departure, I woke feeling only a vague dread. I lay awake for a time listening to the stillness and the sounds of the birds and the snores and shiftings of the dozens of men around me. I had best get used to it, as they would be my companions for the journey. At some point I dozed lightly, and I came to when the others began to stir. Stretching and sighing, I donned my new uniform. The younger guardsmen seemed eager, and as we made our way to the lesser hall for one last meal of land food, the general attitude was of good cheer and excitement. The few old enough to have fought in the Red Ship Wars were as disillusioned with the notion of sea-travel as I was, and were perhaps even less enthusiastic about the trip than I. They grumbled about the futility of the trip – surely there was no dragon, and peace with the Outislands would never last. They grumbled about the food. They grumbled about the close quarters. I shook my head at the contrast between the two groups.

I was jarred from my musings when a friendly arm was thrown about my shoulder. “Not going to eat up? You know we'll be stuck with hard bread and dried meat the whole way there, don't you?”

I looked down at my plate. I had availed myself of hot meat, soft bread, and a honey sweetened porridge, but my fare looked like scraps compared to the youngster's plate. “I just don't feel like throwing it all up again once we're underway.”

The younger guard frowned, then looked thoughtfully at his own heap of sausages and potatoes. He stuffed a forkful into his mouth with a shrug, then reached across me to grab some bread.

I thought that would be the end of it, but the young man seemed to have attached himself to me and followed me all the way back to the barracks, where we cleaned ourselves up and awaited the order to prepare for departure. I sat at the edge of my cot and ran over the list of possessions that I'd packed to be sure that I hadn't forgotten anything. It was a pathetically small list. With a small smile, I belted the sword that the Fool had given me to my waist.

The youngster looked up from where he'd been preening a rather new moustache and grinned at me. “You're bringing that? Looks more fit to be mounted on some rich man's wall than a proper weapon!”

My face flushed, “It was a gift. It's surprisingly well balanced.”

”Still.” He shook his head, “I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that in this company. People are already saying you think you're too good for us common sorts, you know?” I frowned, and he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, _I_ never said it. Your hair looks ridiculous too, that I'll say myself. That tie'll never hold. My name's Riddle, by the way.”

Riddle insisted on loaning me some pomade, and I did not admit that it would help to keep the shorter strands of hair from floating about my face. The young guard threw himself onto his bed and tapped his toes while I fixed my hair. He made no comment on my failure to thank him or to introduce myself. Instead he seemed to become distracted by a rather lurid tale being told by a man about five years his senior. He laughed uproariously and leaned forward, “El's balls, Hest! I don't believe a word of it. Did they touch each other too, or just you?”

”They probably ignored him entirely.” Sniped a surly looking, red bearded fellow.

I ignored them and allowed my gaze to drift around the room. At least a half dozen of the men were Chade's. Their quiet watchfulness mirrored my own and I felt sure that they were as much spy as guard. One man in particular, with a scar down one cheek, was making efforts to blend in, but I marked the way his eyes roamed the room and how he seemed to pay attention to all of the conversations at once. I shook my head to myself wondering just how many men Chade had.

My musings were interrupted by Riddle prodding me on the shoulder. “Badgerlock, is it true that the only way to kill a dragon is with an arrow through the eye? What if it blinks?”

I was relived when Longwick came to order us to form up outside.

Of course, none of the court proceedings ever moved quickly. We stood and waited outside, and then we stood and waited around the Prince's horse and groom at the main gates in the courtyard. The air was cool and the sky was clear. I tried to find appreciation for my last hours on dry land, but found that I could only wish that the day would move faster. Other servants gradually joined us. Some I recognized from my spying missions in the taverns of Buckkeep town, and a few I thought I recognized from elsewhere. All were dressed in their finest to display their master's wealth and importance. Some held horse's reins, others leashed dogs, and many simply stood and waited as we did.

”I wish we weren't missing Springfest. Don't all the festivity remind you of it? Music, dancing, jugglers, girls. Speaking of girls, I heard you got one. Ain't she upset that you're missing Springfest?” Riddle couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut, and I ignored him. If this bothered him, it showed not at all.

Eventually, the prince emerged, with Thick at his side and his entourage of fawning nobles surrounding him. Dutiful spared me no glance as he mounted, but I felt his mind touch mine with the Skill. Our procession formed with the Queen and her men preceding us, our company formed up around the Prince, Chade and his escort behind us, and the favoured nobility behind. I saw Civil and his cat riding along side Witmaster Web, and I also glimpsed Cockle and Starling before I was forced to face forwards and march. I could catch no glimpse of Lord Golden, but was not concerned.

The trek to the docks easily took thrice as long as it normally would have. The crowds were not as thick as I expected them to be outside the gates, but they increased as we descended the hill. Street vendors were out and garlands had been hung, but there was a tension in the air that was unexplained by the shouted well-wishes, and the colourful, waving handkerchiefs. On edge, my eyes scanned the crowds. There were the expected joyous citizens, happy for any excuse for a feast day, but among them my eyes picked out several unhappy scowls. I could not place the reason until behind me I heard the crowd take up a more angry note. I felt Thick's distress through the Skill and raised my walls so that I could focus. Our formation stirred as heads turned and a few shouts of alarm broke through the cheer. Our company drew in around the Prince, and my hand fell on the hilt of my sword. Riddle looked at me nervously.

It was impossible to see what was happening, but I heard shouts of anger and dismay, confused murmuring, our party's alarmed questions, the horses snorting, and a gull crying. I could gain no information from any of it. Soon the Queen's guard stepped in to hold back the crowds and we continued our march. There was more shouting, and I thought that I saw a fight break out. The town guards quickly broke apart the combatants. A lanky looking fellow was nursing a bleeding nose and shaking his fist at another man who looked as though he would have hit the man again, were it not for the guards holding his arms. A couple of younger men in plain homespun tunics shouted at the guards. I saw no more before the scene was behind me.The angry shouts and bewildered muttering grew as the cheers died down. I pitied those who would be making the walk back, for the road would surely have been trampled into mud and manure.

When at last we reached the ships, we still could not simply board and depart. We seemed to have left the discontented members of the crowd behind, and there were last minute speeches to be made before we could leave. I could hear Thick's music in the Skill current, a veritable cacophony of noises and voices, and it made my head ache. The formalities took an age, and by their completion, the sun was high in the sky. The excitement from the earlier uproar faded into restlessness. From there we moved on to another kind of boredom, tucked away below decks. The Prince's Guard and his selected entourage were journeying aboard the Maiden's Chance. Three other vessels would be carrying the lesser nobles, their servants, and their baggage. I wondered how long it would take for us all to board and for all of the baggage to be stowed. I seated myself on my sea chest and sighed. The air in the musty room was thick and already stank of the bilges and the sweat of too many men in one room. It would only get worse after we got on our way. Riddle seemed to read my mind. He sat on my chest beside me and exclaimed, “Eda's tits, but it stinks down here! Think it'll get worse when we're underway and the bilge is sloshing around?”

”Probably.” I answered briefly. The Fool was probably sitting comfortably in a cabin above the deck somewhere. I was horrendously jealous. We'd been given our orders to stay below and let the crew work. I could hear their feet pounding the deck, and it was as though I was sitting in a barrel that was being pelted with stones. Very unpleasant. It had been years since I'd been on a ship, but even when I'd been a rower, I'd always had free access to the decks. It still surprised me that I should be this miserable about it. I really was getting old.

It seemed an age had passed when the captain ordered the ship's boats to begin pulling us out to sea. The sounds changed and the gentle rocking of the ship intensified. Feet pattered above. Someone opened the hatch a crack to let a bit of daylight in.

Riddle looked disappointed. He kicked his heels twice against my sea chest and looked around restlessly. “So... This is it then?”

”For the next few weeks.”

”I'm bored, Tom.”

When I offered no sympathies, Riddle sighed, drew a knife from his belt, and began carving on the planks of the hull.

I heaved a sigh and shut my eyes. I was bored too, and the rocking of the boat was making me feel ill. After some time stewing in my misery, I was glad of it when Chade skilled to me and someone was sent to summon me above. I left Riddle to sulk, and gratefully escaped up the ladder. I was kind and left the hatch more open behind me, though it would probably only taunt those below.

When the guard left me at the door to the Prince's cabin, I rapped and announced myself. At Dutiful's cheerful reply, I entered and shut the door behind myself. Dutiful grinned at me, looking more bright eyed and enthused than he had in weeks. He looked even more regal as well, which surprised me. I had expected him to dress comfortably for travel, but apparently comfortable attire was one luxury that the Prince would not be enjoying on the voyage. He was dressed finely in Buck blue with silver embroidery and with much lace and ribbon. He had more buttons than pockets and the crest upon his breast was subtly but certainly enhanced by a frame of embroidery around it.

”My Prince,” I bowed.

Dutiful flapped a tolerant hand at me, still smiling. “Enough of that, Tom! Isn't this amazing? The ship is so swift. It feels so good to be out of the keep!”

The young prince's eyes were full of his lust for adventure, and I was reminded again of how young he was. Not only in years, but in other ways too. When I had been his age, I'd already seen war and men torn apart by forged ones. I'd killed and nearly been killed several times. I'd grown up quickly. Dutiful's childhood had been much different than mine. A legitimate prince and a solitary lad from what I'd been told. He had grown in a time of peace with every friendship a political dance and no siblings to stand as his equals. This was his first adventure other than the time he'd run away to join the Piebalds, and he was brimming with excitement.

I took a seat and smiled at him, “You look excited. Not scared to face the dragon?”

”Of course not!” Dutiful boasted, “Whether the dragon exists or not, I will face what comes. Personally, I cannot fathom how a creature could possibly survive encased in ice for so long. I am more afraid of the meeting with the Hetgurd. How will I sit still through more politics when there is a dragon to be slain?”

Chade interjected, “The politics are the most important part, my Prince. You know that the alliance hinges more upon good relations with the Hetgurd and trade agreements with the locals. The latter we have hopefully secured with our choice of traders accompanying us, but the former will lie largely on you, and you are hardly a mighty warrior. It will take skill to earn their respect.”

”Talent, you mean.” I raised an eyebrow at Chade, wondering if I imagined a double meaning.

Chade scowled, “Yes, talent. I'll not risk turning the lot of them into mindless vegetables.”

”You summoned me?” I prompted.

”Yes,” Chade nodded, “I've decided to assign you as the Prince's personal guard. Your experience serving Lord Golden will no doubt qualify you for the task.”

Dutiful frowned, “Not that I am displeased to be given the opportunity to spend time with Tom, Chade, but I hardly need a guard on board the ship.”

”You will have one nevertheless.” Chade was firm. “Thick has become your shadow, and I am your advisor, but what excuse would Tom have to join us for Skill lessons? Fitz will also be able to serve as my eyes and ears among the nobility when I cannot accompany you.”

Dutiful's expression did not brighten, “Surely you could trust me to notice anything amiss. We are among our own people and I do not need a nanny.” He paused and looked at me, sheepish, “No offence intended, Tom.”

”None taken, my prince.”

Chade opened his mouth to speak, but Dutiful spoke over him. “Enough, Chade. I would not be so cross with you if you had discussed this with me first. I will take Tom as my bodyguard, but I will expect you to advise me, not order me, in the future.”

Chade bowed his head, “Of course, Prince Dutiful. I overstepped my place. Please forgive an old man.”

Dutiful huffed, “Forgiven.”

Chade straightened and continued as though the discussion had never been interrupted, “Good. Now Fitz, you will accompany the Prince and cultivate your own acquaintances. Keep an eye on the nobility, and an ear on their conversations, but pay special attention to their servants. They are in the best position to have inside information and are less likely to turn their noses up at a bastard.”

”Yes, Chade.” Thinking of the stuffy parties and veiled words to interpret made me wonder if I would not have been better off below decks with the other guards.

Perhaps I would have. I spent the next two hours below with the other guards listening to the stories of sexual prowess, adventure, and gossip. Riddle teased me endlessly when he found out that I'd be escorting the prince. He smirked as he collected five coppers from an unhappy guard whose name was Staunch. “Not going to do your make up before you leave? All the fancy nobles are painting themselves like Jamailians as though there's anyone to impress but fish!”

”Were you betting?” I frowned at the exchange.

Riddle looked satisfied as he sat down on his bunk, “Of course. I'm never wrong! I've got a gift.”

Staunch grumbled, “Yeah? Then why're you here instead of making your fortune swindling?”

”Oh, and miss your delightful company?” Riddle smirked, tossed the coins into the air, caught them, and tucked them into his purse.

I shook my head. “I'll trade you if you like. It won't be any fun watching them talk circles around each other.”

Riddle pulled a pair of dice out of his purse. “I think I'll stay here and swindle. Who wants to play?”

The man with the scar, whose name I later discovered was Chaser, took a seat by Riddle and took out his own battered pair of dice.

I sat down to watch. Riddle shot me a grin, “Come on, join in! You've got nothing better to do for now, right?”

I shook my head, “I'll watch.”

Staunch scowled at us, “Betting with my money, he is.”

Some of the other guards had settled into their own games. Others were lounging and telling stories. Someone had brought a playing set for stones. Once Riddle won the dice game for the third time, a small crowd gathered around us. Some of the younger men started taking turns trying to beat him and a small tournament formed. I watched, growing increasingly impressed. I watched for signs of cheating, but if he made any deception, I could not spot it.

Riddle's current opponent was a young lad who I remembered as being rather clumsy during drill, Wary. He groaned and handed over two coppers, Riddle cocked his head and smiled, “I tell you what. I'll pose you a riddle, and if you can guess the answer before the sun goes down, I'll return your coins. What do you say?”

Wary looked sceptical, “What if I don't guess it?”

”No loss to you. I'm being generous. It won't be easy, mind you! I'm not named Riddle for nothing!”

After assessing his options, Wary nodded. “Alright, what is it?”

Riddle hummed and tapped his chin, then posed his riddle: “Born from the earth but at home in the sea, full of life, but dead, I guarantee. What is it?” There was a pause. “No need to rush; you've got all day. Is that stones? Let's play that instead! I brought a set too.” When Wary shook his head, Riddle looked at me. “Want to play?” 

I shook my head and got up, giving my place to Hest, who agreed to play. “I should probably be going.”

”Bring back some of their fancy food for us, eh? I heard they're giving us lentil soup for dinner.”

I left them, feeling jealous of their leisure time. I ascended the ladder and made my way to the Prince's cabin. I was admitted after I rapped and announced myself by a rather disgruntled looking Swift. I could tell that when he grew, he'd have Burrich's dark scowl. I stepped past the boy and raised my eyebrows at the occupants of the room. An outraged looking Dutiful sat at the edge of his seat. Web, in contrast, reclined in his chair, though he was sporting an impressive looking bump on the head. Civil was petting his cat, but looked up when I entered. Cockle nodded to me. Swift shut the door behind me.

I looked from one face to another. “What goes on?”

Dutiful finally turned his attention to me. “Take a seat, Tom Badgerlock. I will be ready to go soon, and you might as well stay.”

I sat. The absurdity of continuing to go by the name Tom Badgerlock when surely everyone knew my true name struck me, but I said nothing. Perhaps continuing to keep a distance from my past would be beneficial, considering the rumours that Nettle had mentioned.

Web smiled at me and nodded his greeting before turning to Dutiful, “I am honoured by your anger on my behalf, Prince Dutiful, but it really is best to let it go. Really, a few stones could be considered to be progress.”

Swift spoke up, “They're prejudiced! They can't continue to persecute us for our magic! They've got to be punished!”

Web frowned at his apprentice, “That's the sort of thinking that started the whole mess with the Piebalds, Swift. We've got to let go of our grudges if we're ever to make peace.”

Swift still simmered, “Maybe the Piebalds were right, then! It's disgusting how everyone fears us and hates us just because they've got no magic of their own! We shouldn't have to be ashamed!”

”Enough, Swift.” Web was firm, “Remember you are in the company of our Prince. Go into the other room and read from one of your scrolls.”

Swift looked mutinous. He looked around at us for support, but finding none, still stomped into the servant's room. Cockle shook his head.

Dutiful sighed and leaned forward, bracing his elbows against the table as he rubbed his temples. I was reminded of Verity. “It troubles me that Six Duchies folk would turn on one another.”

Web spoke calmingly, “It has been so for hundreds of years. We cannot change things in a few months.”

After a few quiet moments, Dutiful straightened. He looked at Web with a direct and honest expression. “I apologize to you on behalf of my citizens. It pains me that you would be treated in such a way, and I will do all in my power to see things change in my life time.”

Web smiled, “Thank you, Prince.”

”What exactly happened?” I asked again.

The minstrel spoke, “There were stones thrown at us as we marched to the docks. A dozen or more people took exception to our presence on the voyage. One of the rocks struck Web a nasty blow to the head.” Cockle looked at me in a measuring way, and I realized how odd it would have been for an ordinary guardsman to speak out in the company of the Prince. Perhaps it was wise of Chade to be pulling me out of that role. 

So that was what the commotion had been about. Dutiful looked weary and I could hear Swift grumbling to himself in the other room. “I'm glad that it wasn't serious,” I said. “The town guards calmed the crowd?”

Cockle nodded, “Though several were dragged away kicking.”

Web observed the exchange and the gaze that he fixed on me was far too knowing for my liking. “What's done is done. Now we must focus on the journey ahead.”

Dutiful rose, “I suppose it's all that we can do for now. Won't you join me? There will be a celebratory dinner with the Captain and favoured guests.”

Web shook his head, “Thank you, but perhaps another time.”

Dutiful turned to Cockle, “Civil will be coming. You're more than welcome to join us as well.”

To my surprise, he declined, saying that he would be entertaining the servants and crew who cared to listen.

The captain was a white bearded man whose vitality defied the wrinkles on his face and the thinning of his hair. What he thought of all of the changes to his ship, I could not say, but he seemed honoured to be in the company of the Prince of the Six Duchies, and he was an enthusiastic host. His first mate was in presence as well, but he seemed restless. Perhaps he would have rather been keeping an eye on his crew. The nobles in attendance were Lords Blackwell, Fairhights, Sharp, Bresinga and Robins who I remembered from their meetings with Chade and Kettricken and Lord Thistle who seemed as surprised at my presence as I was at his. Of merchants there were Ivory, Holdfast, and Bounty. It was a small group, and the largest surprise of all was the absence of Lord Golden. I would have to ask her later why she'd not been invited or perhaps had chosen not to attend.

Where would I seat myself? Would I stand behind the Prince's chair as I had as Lord Golden's bodyguard? There were no lesser nobles present, so would I sit at the far end of the table as was appropriate for a bastard? The problem was solved for me by Dutiful, who directed me to sit between Chade and Civil. Chade was on Dutiful's right and the Captain on Dutiful's left. The position made my place very clear and I shifted, awkwardly. Civil did not seem to know how to react. There were a few exchanged glances between the nobles. The merchants seemed clueless.

The captain addressed us, “Gentlemen! It is my honour to have you all aboard my ship. You especially, Prince Dutiful. I'll see you don't regret your choice. She's a bit top heavy now, but this old girl's the finest ship that's ever come out of Buck duchy.”

Dutiful smiled, “The Maiden's Chance is a most worthy vessel, Captain. Thank you for your service.”

Talk at the dinner was light, and it seemed to me that the nobles and merchants, now that their taxes and other agreements had been negotiated, were content to try to curry favour with Dutiful. Fairheights and Blackwell seemed intent on outdoing one another, but no animosity was shown between them. No one addressed me directly, which was fine. I was content to listen. There was some speculation on whether the dragon would exist or not, but the general consensus was that the Narcheska was a child and still believed in the tales told to children. Here Dutiful surprised me by speaking up. He spoke with a smile on his face and a light hearted tone, but none could mistake the rebuke in his words.

”Narcheska Elliania is young, but she shows courage and spirit. Those are qualities that I appreciate in a future Queen.”

Rather than being shamefaced, Blackwell laughed heartily. “She is spirited, certainly! And so are you for rising to meet this challenge of hers. You turn her insult into a decided advantage for the Six Duchies by arranging for this trading voyage.”

“Yes, this voyage should be beneficial for us all.” Dutiful held his smile, but I could sense his annoyance through the Skill.

_You're doing well, Dutiful. _I encouraged.__

_They do not see the importance of this journey at all. Their only motivation is greed._ Dutiful was surprisingly incensed. I'd not thought that he liked the Narcheska, and he knew as well as I that their purpose was to engage in trade.

Chade spoke aloud, probably having sensed that Dutiful might say something improper. “A toast.” He proposed, “To an alliance that will increase the richness and security of the whole Six Duchies.”

Our glasses were raised. Chade skilled to us irritatedly, _Not one day has passed and already you are annoyed with our company? Dutiful, you have been raised for better than childish tantrums._

_But I didn't throw a tantrum!_ Dutiful was indignant, _Am I not even allowed my own thoughts? I have behaved completely properly._

_Shut up!_ came Thick's groaning thought through the Skill current, fairly blasting us with his miserable mood, _You're being loud._ I could feel how the rocking of the boat sickened him and how afraid and awful he felt. For a moment I could not stomach the sight of my own dinner.

_Thick, that is not how you talk to your Prince._ Scolded Chade.

I pulled myself from the current and focused on the physical world. Conversation continued, wine was poured. I returned to the guard's quarters that evening and tossed Riddle a sweet cake in a napkin that I'd taken from the table. He caught it and grinned at me.

”How was dinner? Was it better than soup?”

”It was.” I confirmed, sitting down on my own bunk.

”I've got it!” Wary announced, looking at Riddle triumphantly. “It's a boat!”

Riddle tossed him his two coppers with a wink.

”That isn't fair at all. It was easy!” Complained Staunch, “Give me a riddle.”

Riddle lay back on his bunk, “I don't know. I thought I might buy a trinket for a girl back home with your five coppers. Don't bet if you can't afford to lose.”

Hest prodded Riddle, “Go on. He looks like he might cry.”

Riddle sighed and crossed his arms behind his head, “Fine. Hm. Half seen and half unseen, it moves through both water and air but cannot walk on land. It has dozens of voices but no ears at all. What is it?”

Staunch frowned, “A sea-bird?”

”Nothing stopping a bird from walking on land,” Riddle pointed out. “Two more guesses.”

”Wary got until sundown!”

”The sun's already set. If I don't set a limit, you'll keep me up all night guessing, and that's just not a good plan.”

I focused my attention on other conversations. There were several games of dice, and one man was complaining loudly of how his wife had scolded him for missing Springfest even though our positions as the Prince's guard had been drawn randomly.

”You could always marry an Outislander instead. I hear they're like animals in bed!”

”Yeah, but so is your sister. Doesn't mean I'd marry her.”

Another group was sitting around a stones cloth, and some were simply relaxing in their bunks. I saw that Chaser was observing the others much as I was. With a sigh, I decided to disrobe and join the numbers of those who were relaxing in their bunks. There would be no peace and quiet, but at least I would not have to suffer through any more political conversations that evening.

”Is it the wind?”

”Wrong again. Sure you don't want to sleep on it?”

I nodded off before Staunch guessed the answer.


	13. Distilled Politics

My days aboard the ship passed, and though I was not an oarsman and we were in peaceful waters, the air was filled with tension that was almost palpable, and it seemed to grow worse the longer we were out at sea. The crew muttered amongst themselves about the lazy nobility and ill omens from bad dreams, the guards were restless, and the sniping and insults among the nobility were becoming even more thinly veiled. The first mate had to break up more than a few squabbles among his crew, and morale was quickly plummeting. This led to an increase in accidents and even more whispering of curses and omens.

As much as I detested the fact and longed to be a simple guardsman with a guardsman's concerns, the bad feelings amongst all on board the Maiden's Chance and the other ships affected me, the Witted Bastard returned from the dead, the most of all. It made my days drag on and I heartily wished to be back in Buckkeep, or even better, back at my cottage with Nighteyes and a hot fire.

Four days into our voyage, I emerged from the guard's quarters to see several of the crew throwing nails and other bits of things at Risk. I have little understanding of birds, but I could tell that she was offended and scared. Web descended on them and I think that it was the first time I'd seen him truly angered. Swift was furious. He shouted at the crew as though his words alone could dispel their prejudice. They sneered at him. I did not involve myself, but Skilled to Dutiful who appeared on the scene quickly, accompanied by the captain.

”What goes on here?” Dutiful demanded.

Swift growled, “They were throwing things at Risk!”

”Bird's got no place aboard this ship!” asserted one of the crew, “Neither it nor it's master.” He shook his fist at Web.

”They're bringing bad luck.” added the other.

Dutiful's expression darkened, “Captain. I defer to your authority aboard your ship, but it seems to me that these men have too much free time on their hands.”

The men were given extra chores scrubbing and coiling ropes. They did not look pleased and I do not believe that the incident improved their feelings towards the Witted.

I spent my days with the guards and my evenings with Dutiful and the nobles. Occasionally I sat in on meetings with the Wit coterie and the Skill coterie, few as we were. The nobility entertained themselves largely by gambling and listening to minstrels perform. I was already sick of it. On our sixth day at sea, I kept to myself while Dutiful immersed himself in the entertainments. If Buckkeep castle was a river of politics with many currents and tributaries, then this was a boiling pot. Blackwell and Fairheights had not mended their quarrel with one another and they exchanged barbed comments through most of the night. Contrary to their names, Blackwell was a fair haired inland noble with a very thick moustache and a very small beard, and Fairheights had the darker colouring of the coast. Lord Elfric came to Fairheights' defense when a comment had been made about the paltry size of his wagers. The only one I had not yet seen was Lord Golden, and I wondered if he avoided me. I watched the bickering and wondered why any of them bothered to gather if none of them enjoyed the company. Merchants shamelessly took sides, made alliances, and broke them in favour of more enticing terms. They, I think, were the only ones enjoying themselves.

Lord Thistle dared to approach me that day. I made no effort to disguise my distaste for the soft, wheedling little man. He smiled nervously. “So then. I see you're having fun.”

”Not particularly.”

A nervous laugh, “Yes, Lord Golden told me of how weary you are of the politics at court. It's all been distilled and concentrated here, like spirits. Not all have the taste for such strong stuff. It does not appeal to me either.”

”I will be blunt then: was there something that you wanted?”

Lord Thistle blinked his tiny little eyes at me and his mouth flapped open and shut several times in an unflattering way that reminded me of a fish. I saw him go from astonished to offended, but he did not have the courage to look me in the eye as he said: “If you must know, I was asked to look out for you. You're not the most sociable person in the world and that does not make it easy. You might be grateful.”

Excuse me? “Grateful?” I narrowed my eyes. “And who exactly asked you to do me this _favour_?”

In the face of my displeasure, Lord Thistle's backbone disappeared again. “Lord Golden did, sir. He said that you were finding it difficult to adapt to life at court.”

”And where is Lord Golden?” I would be having words with him.

Thistle's eyes widened fractionally, “Not aboard. I thought you knew.”

My confusion displaced my anger for a moment. Not aboard? I knew that this voyage was important to the Fool. “Not aboard. Is he on any of the other ships?”

A shake of the head, “No. You didn't see? He was turned away at the docks.”

Well, that was one mystery solved. That did not mean that the Fool had not snuck aboard in any other guise though. I cast my eyes around the room, taking in the nobles and their servants. “No, I didn't see. Thank you for telling me.”

My thanks seemed to convince Thistle that I wasn't all bad and he ventured a question: “If you don't mind my asking, you _are_ him, aren't you? FitzChivalry Farseer.”

I swung my gaze back to him, “Yes.”

”Everyone's been saying so. I want you to know that I don't believe a word they say. Anyone can see that you're as protective of Prince Dutiful as a father. Er, well, not that I believe that rumour either, but...”

”I'm here to aid him on his quest, that's all.”

”Yes, right.”

I hated the fact that I was the subject of rumours. It seemed that our caution in easing me slowly into life at court, rather than welcoming me with banners and fanfare, was not going as well as Chade or I had hoped. Instead of reassuring folk that I was wholly dedicated to serving the crown, it seemed that people were more inclined to come to their own conclusions.

I brought this up to Chade that night as we gathered in Dutiful's chamber. Dutiful was present as well, though he was checking on Thick at the moment, who occupied the small adjacent room intended for a servant. He'd yet to recover from his sea-sickness.

Chade rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “There's nothing that we can do about it for now. Opinion of the witted is still low, and this may be better than the alternative. If the quest goes well, then perhaps Kettricken will honour you for your service and your name can be formally acknowledged. I know that it has long been her wish that you be recognized formally for all you've done for us.”

”It is not my wish at all, though. I'd just like a quiet life. I'm just worried that the rumours may lead to trouble.”

Dutiful joined us at the table. “You're already the hero of one song! Starling will no doubt compose another on this voyage. People will be sure to acknowledge your honour.”

”Two songs, actually.” Chade corrected, “Though one has been lost to time.”

I sighed. They didn't understand. “I really don't care how many songs I'm the subject of. I'd just like to live to old age without being hung over water, quartered, and burned.”

Dutiful paled a bit, “We are working on that, cousin. I've a Wit coterie now, and the Piebalds are open to talks.”

”Six Duchies citizens are not, though. You saw the stones as we walked through Buckkeep town. You've heard of the murders and fires.”

Chade rejoined the conversation, “All things will be righted with time, Fitz. We cannot change the hearts of the citizens so quickly. Patience.”

”I can only be patient so long as I am alive.” I sighed and gave up the topic. “A more immediate concern, then, Chade. Lord Thistle told me that Lord Golden was turned away from the ships when he tried to board.”

”Was he?” The old man looked entirely too innocent.

”Was this your doing, Chade?”

Dutiful looked surprised, “I had wondered why he'd not been at any of the events. He'd promised me stories of my father.”

”Why is it always assumed that I am behind every unpleasant occurrence? I am offended, Fitz.”

I sighed, noting that he did not answer and taking that as an affirmative. I would gain nothing by forcing him to admit it in front of Dutiful, and I would try to have a private conversation with him later. “Well, he is not aboard, apparently. I'm as surprised as you are, Dutiful.”

Dutiful frowned, looking more like a child than a soon-to-be King in Waiting. “I suppose it will have to wait until we return.”

”It would seem so.” I glared at Chade.

Chade changed the topic. “So. As the coterie is mostly assembled, does anyone have anything to report? Any more dragon dreams or otherwise suspicious occurrences?”

Dutiful and I both responded in the negative.

”Perhaps she's given up.” I suggested.

”Hm.” Chade did not seem convinced. “If she were human, I would be concerned that she'd found some other way to get the information she sought. As she isn't, perhaps she was distracted by a deer or a cow. Who can say? Dragons are not my area of expertise.”

”Nor any of ours. At least we can say definitively that this one is real. The Fool confirms that and also the existence of others in the Rain Wilds, though they were born malformed.”

Dutiful tilted his head in thought, “If we can reach Ti- that one with the Skill, then could we not try to reach Icefyre to see if he exists?”

I thought about it. “Perhaps... We do not know the shape of him in the current, though, so it might be difficult to target him.”

”And we could risk drawing the unwanted attention of the female.” Chade added.

Dutiful shrugged, “Perhaps when we're closer though? She couldn't possibly find us before our job was done.”

I spoke as Skillmaster, “Let us not take any unnecessary risks just yet. We have the Outislanders to guide us to Icefyres supposed location and we've guardsmen to help dig. As I see it, there's no need for magical intervention that might alert our prey or the other dragon to our quest.”

”If he exists.”

”Yes.”

Dutiful sighed, “I suppose you're right, Tom. Fitz. Chade, have you learned anything in the scrolls?”

”Only the occasional reference to a creature in the ice. It seems that there is definitely something buried down there. Whether it is a dragon or not is debatable, and whether it lives is another story all together.”

”I wish we knew for certain.” Dutiful frowned, “What if nothing is to be found? Narcheska Elliania will say that I did not fulfil my quest.”

Chade was the voice of reason, “If nothing is to be found, then we will have our Outislander guides there to confirm that we did our best. You may be Prince of the Six Duchies, but you cannot do the impossible.”

”Since it seems safe enough for now, should we practice any of our Skill exercises?” I ventured.

Dutiful shook his head, “I'm tired, and whenever I try to Skill to you or to Chade, Thick's music is like a fog I must reach through.”

I nodded, “We'll wait until he's well enough to control himself then. The dragon is quiet for now, but she may still be waiting for us to drop our guards, so set your walls well at night and keep your deliberate sendings thin and contained.”

Chade scoffed. I knew that I was not the best qualified to give that advice, but I kept my expression stern. Apparently I took after my father in the way I Skilled. I thought of asking Chade about Lord Golden again, but decided that I would wait until night and demonstrate to him that I could indeed Skill in a controlled and precise way.

With a yawn, I excused myself to the guards quarters below. I was received with grunts and growls, or simply a glance in my direction. Chaser looked up from his mending and nodded at me. I still suspected that he was one of Chade's and I nodded back. Riddle was the only one who greeted me with a smile, but the effect was rather ruined by the new black eye he sported.

”What happened to your face?” I demanded.

Riddle grinned abashedly, then winced. “Bit too much fun, is all. Can't say I've always known when to call it quits.”

Despite myself, I'd come to accept the younger man as sort of an annoying pup. I boldly examined the injury and ignored his protests as I felt the bones around his cheek and his eye. I'd expected Longwick to keep better control over his men. “You'll be fine.” I decided.

”I could have told you that.” He huffed and sprawled on his bunk. “D'you want to play stones?”

”Don't do it.” Wary warned, “He's an awful cheat.”

”I am not!” Riddle defended himself.

”I'm not really in the mood.” I declined.

Riddle sighed and then smiled, undaunted by my refusal. “Look at this.” He gestured to a beam and I looked closer to examine a carving he'd been doing. “Good, right?”

”I don't think the Captain would appreciate it...”

”How's he going to know? Besides, what else is there to do?”

I sighed. The art itself was good, and I supposed the next lonely sailor to occupy the bunk would appreciate the well favoured female he'd etched into the wood. She covered her modesty with only a fish for some reason.

As I lay in my bunk that night, I listened to the grumbling and snoring of my fellow guards and thought. _Chade?_ I kept my Skilling tight and small. I knew that he would be awake. The old man seemed to never sleep.

_Yes, boy?_

_You left the Fool behind on purpose, didn't you?_

I sensed the Skill equivalent of a sigh, or rather the emotions of exasperation and weariness. _Yes, Fitz, I did, and it was for his own good._

_His own good? You don't even like him._

_Our own good as well._ There was something there. Some emotion bubbling under the surface.

_Explain._ I prompted.

_Time was when you accepted my judgment in these things._ Chade grumbled. 

_You taught me to question everything._ I countered. 

_Yes, but not me!_ He complained. _Oh, very well, if you will promise to leave the topic alone. Do you remember that night when you caught me looking into his mind with the Skill?_

_Yes._ I had been furious with Chade that day. 

_I was skeptical of the White Prophets, Fitz. I thought that it was a cult based on a misunderstanding and madness... But if it is madness, then it is convincing madness, Fitz. When I saw what he saw, I knew the importance of the Dreams and I saw the infinite futures born from that moment and dying in that moment. I saw them coalesce into a stream and then a river and I saw the fork in the path. Oh what I could accomplish with such a gift._ I felt the powerful surge of his jealousy and desire. _But I digress. What the Fool has seen on Aslevjal is that Icefyre is real. He will either be killed or set free._

I frowned. _You told me that it was madness. You've been insisting to me that the Fool is mad._

_I am not an unrealistic man, Fitz. I know where your loyalties will fall when pushed. I also know that if you do as he asks you, then he will die._

My thoughts and my heart froze. Surely it wasn't so. _What?_ But even as I asked that, memories came back to me. The Fool had told me as much and she'd cried, but she'd still been insistent on making the journey. She'd seen it as essential. I hadn't believed her. Had pushed the thought out of my mind, taking solace in the fact that it was probably madness.

_He Dreams his own death._ Chade confirmed.

_No._ I denied. I denied it with all of my being. _You're saying this to make me forgive you for leaving him behind._

_There are easier lies that I could tell to achieve that end. I am being honest with you. I will even tell you that my primary motivation was to remove his influence on you._

Her influence. On me, her catalyst. I knew her desire: that Icefyre live, restoring dragons to the world. If dragons were restored, then humanity would be kept in check, she said. A mirror to mankind's selfishness. Then there had been the Pale Woman, calling the Fool a false prophet. If dragons were restored, then human kind would become no better than slaves or prey. Progress would be halted. If dragons were restored, then the Fool would die.

Not if the Fool wasn't on Aslevjal though. Could I do the Fool's bidding, restore dragons to the world, and also keep her safe? But did I agree that the return of dragons was for the best? And what if it meant her death anyway?

My silence must have stretched too long because Chade's thought broke in on mine. _You may think me selfish, but I put the Six Duchies above all else, Fitz. As should you._

_No. Thank you, Chade..._ He was surprised by my thanks. _Regardless of your motives, I am thankful to you. I will not allow anything to happen to him. If I had taken his words seriously, then I would have done the same thing._

Chade's relief was strong. I hadn't known he cared so much for my opinion. _Good lad, Fitz._

We let our connection fade. I shut my eyes and groaned. It was too much. Thank the gods for Chade.

”You alright?” Came a voice in the darkness. It was Riddle.

”Yes, I'm fine. Go back to sleep.” I took a deep breath and sighed it out.

I did not sleep well that night.


	14. Tidings of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for how long it's been, here's another chapter!

I blinked my eyes open feeling more tired than when I'd first gone to sleep. Nettle had been outside of my Skill walls all night, and after our parting I did not have the courage to face her. Let her be, I decided. Hope she'll forget about her Shadow Wolf and move on. With any luck she would never find out that I was her father.

It was not yet dawn and I thought that I would try to find a bit more rest, but something brought me to alertness. Something that was out of place among the snores and restless shifting. Footsteps. I opened my eyes.

Riddle was already up and dressed. With seemingly effortless stealth, he climbed the ladder and exited the hatch into the still darkness. Dawn was just a hint of paler blue in the night sky.

I thought about following him, then shook my mind clear of my paranoia. I eased myself back into relaxation. The other guardsmen tossed and turned in their bunks and I fell asleep to the sounds of their muttering and breathing.

I woke again when Riddle returned. This time I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Where were you?” I asked, still foggy from what had at last been a deep sleep.

”Just finding a snack.” He had a couple of apples in his hands. He juggled them one handed and then tossed one to me. I caught it and he whistled. “You've got good reflexes.”

”Shut up,” complained one of the men. “Or I'll test your reflexes myself.”

”Scary.” Riddle made a face of mock surprise and then flopped on his bunk again.

It occurred to me that I had never actually seen Riddle wake first thing in the morning; he was a very early riser. What reason could anyone who wasn't crew have to wake so early every morning? It was suspicious. I turned and looked at the young man in the lamp light.

Nonsense.

Not even the Fool was that adept at disguise.

But there was his inexplicably friendly behaviour towards me. And the carving on the woodwork. And the riddles. His _name_ was Riddle, which was a tad suspicious.

I needed more sleep.

Nevertheless, I did not sleep well the next night or the next. Nettle kept hammering at my Skill walls and it became almost impossible to have a restful sleep. It made me irritable and even Lord Thistle, who seemed to have taken the Fool's request very seriously, began to avoid me.

The morning of our twelfth day at sea, I heard Riddle creeping out in the hours before dawn. I waited until he'd ascended the ladder before slipping out of bed myself and following. I paused at the hatch and looked left and right to see where he'd gone. The pre-dawn light was dim but not impossible to see by. He was going around the main mast and heading aft. I followed as stealthily as I was able. When I saw Riddle freeze and then melt into the shadows, I followed suit, wondering if he'd sensed me. I stayed still for a time and waited. He did not move. I crept closer, a wolf hunting his prey. Then I heard what had caused him to freeze. The low murmur of voices, just audible above the waves and the sounds of the ship. I could not hear what was said. Deciding that my curiosity about Riddle was secondary, I joined him in his hiding place. His eyes widened at the sight of me, but he was wise enough to remain still and silent.

The first mate was with three of his crew and two servants that I recognized as belonging to Blackwell and Sharp. The conversation seemed serious, and I wondered if they were being rebuked. The Maiden's Chance had not been as smoothly run a vessel as I thought it could be. My mind went back to a day in Buckkeep town. The Fool had dragged me to a tavern, supposedly for lunch, but had abandoned me there. I'd recognized the first mate by his braids and his scar, and among he and his crew had been several of the servants of the nobility. I'd brushed it off then as the smallness of the world, and I wondered at their clandestine meeting now, my mind running through possibilities and ordering them. It did not seem as though they'd met for a friendly discussion, and they brought no light with them.

They departed and Riddle and I kept to our hiding place until they were past. We both exhaled and looked at one another speculatively. Riddle grinned.

I pulled at the laces of his tunic and parted the fabric.

Riddle's brows knit in confusion.

I shook my head at my own stupidity and then turned, walking back to the hatch and down to the guard's quarters.

Riddle returned some time later and lay on his bunk until the others began to rise. He approached while I was dressing myself for the day. “Going to tell me what that was all about?”

”I thought you were a woman,” I confessed.

His laughter was uproarious.

Chade was amused too. I reported to him that morning in Dutiful's cabin while the prince himself took a stroll on the deck with the captain. I described both the sighting at the tavern, omitting the Fool's part, and what I had seen just hours before.

”Yes, I know.” Chade said, “Riddle already told me.”

”So he's yours then.”

”Yes. I suppose there's no harm in telling you now that you've already begun to suspect something. He was most confused by your undoing of his shirt.”

I skirted around explaining and Chade chuckled to himself.

Blushing, I brought us back on track. “Do you have any inkling as to why the first mate has been meeting with our nobility's servants?”

”They could be old friends. They could have gotten into a fight with the crew members. They could be thinking of mutiny. The servants could be spying on their masters and feeding him information in exchange for bribes. There are many possibilities, and we cannot settle on one without more evidence. Riddle will be friendly with the crew members. You focus on the servants.”

”Very well.”

That day, I saw Riddle smilingly offer his assistance on deck. I joined Dutiful while he chatted with the nobles and merchants courting his favour. He seemed to be having a good time and I wondered if Chade had warned him about the ulterior motives that many would have in gaining his friendship. Dutiful had long been seen as a bit eccentric and reclusive. To be given a chance to have so much time with the boy was rare and I'm sure that many underestimated him because of his reputation and his years. The idea of his supposed eccentricity was reinforced in that Dutiful had invited not only his bastard cousin along, but also his Wit coterie. The nobles seemed uncomfortable about the arrangement, some more than others, and I could see the effort it took to remain courteous. All knew that Dutiful was a supporter of the Old Blood community and since the incident with Risk days before, people who cared about his opinion were careful to remain respectful in his presence.

I did not have a chance to speak with any of the servants until that evening, when we took small boats to another vessel to hear minstrels take turns at singing and enjoy a bit of dancing. I did not mingle and the people, I thought, were grateful that they did not have to converse with me. I was doubly a pariah for my birth and my magic. Triply, if one counted the belief held by many that I had murdered King Shrewd.

The servants privileged enough to have been invited along kept their master's glasses full and served food as well. The guests certainly ate better than the guards and the crew, though the fare was much worse than what they were accustomed to and it was not fresh now that we'd been at sea for so long. I wondered what the captain thought of all of the renovations that had been made to accommodate all of the supplies.

I recognized one of the men from last night and watched him for a time, before approaching him. He was standing idly, watching people's glasses and plates. “It makes you wonder if they consider this luxury a hardship.” I commented, noting the displeased expressions on some of the faces.

”Aye, that it does.” The servant responded, then looked at me and frowned slightly. I saw an expression that I was very familiar with from childhood. Thinly veiled contempt. “Can I do anything for you...” He struggled to decide how to address me.

I relieved him of his dilemma, “No, thank you. Just making conversation.” I did my best to make my expression affable.

”If you'll excuse me, then, I'm very busy.” He left. 

Maybe Riddle could do this job too, I thought. My efficiency as a spy had been badly compromised by the revelation of my identity.

I thought about Skilling to Chade to let him know my problem, but decided against it. Nettle was still lurking outside my walls and I was still too much of a coward to face her. The choice was taken from me later that night, when I was sent to my knees by the force of my Skill walls being blasted open. My ears rang and I was disoriented. I'd been returning to the guard's quarters and Dutiful looked at me, concerned.

_There you are!_ accused a very angry Nettle.

I took a shuddering breath. I heard Dutiful explain to someone that I'd probably had too much to drink. Nettle's fury with me was plain and I was reminded of her mother. _How...?_ was all I could manage. I might have spoken aloud as well. Suddenly, I was wide open. I sensed Dutiful's worry and confusion, the crew's unhappiness, the contempt of those who passed us by as they looked down on the bastard Farseer. Above all and nearly overwhelming in its intensity was an oppressive, agitated feeling that overtook me like a wave.

_I had help._ Nettle declared. _Go somewhere where we can talk. I am not happy with you, but this is important!_

I felt her pressure against my mind lessen and I was able to build my walls somewhat, though there were gaps and holes there that would not close. I staggered to my feet.

”Are you alright?” Dutiful asked.

”I... I'm fine, I think. Just dizzy.” I wondered if he had sensed the blast of Skill that had so jarred me. “I think that I'll go to my bed.”

With a worried frown, Dutiful let me go. I nearly fell down the ladder. I ignored the other guards, and did not bother to do more than take off my boots before I lay down and feigned sleep.

_Alright. I'm here, Nettle._

_You've been avoiding me. Again. Why?_ She demanded.

How to answer that? I did not think that I had the wherewithal to lie properly, still disoriented from the blast, so I settled for a simple truth: _I was afraid._

My exhausted body must have fallen into true sleep, because I was with Nettle in her dream garden. She glared at me fiercely. “You were afraid. How do you think I felt? You've been gone for days and not once did you let me know that you were alright. You could have been dead for all I knew!”

”I'm sorry.” I looked down at my paws. I was Shadow Wolf again. So, this was how she still saw me in her mind. “I did not think.”

”No, you certainly didn't.” Nettle frowned and sat on the grass. “You are always holding yourself back. You fear my affection, but I know you feel it for me too. I won't let you run like you always do.”

”How did you break past my walls?” Was my daughter truly that powerful in the Skill magic?

”I told you: I had help.” She gestured, and a lizard in the grass looked at me with swirling, metallic eyes. A wave of dread washed over me. So that was where Tintaglia's attentions had gone. The dragon grew to her proper size and soon towered over Nettle and myself. I avoided looking into her eyes.

”The dragon.” I said.

”Tintaglia.” Nettle confirmed. “I told her that I could help her find you. In exchange, she helped me break through your walls. I know, too, that she opposes Prince Dutiful's quest.” My daughter frowned. “I understand that the Prince must meet the Narcheska's demand so that they may marry and build an alliance between the Outislands and the Six Duchies, but it seems cruel. If the dragon Icefyre lives, then he is Tintaglia's last chance for a mate.”

”You bargained with a dragon.” I was stupefied.

”Yes, I did! You left me little choice!” Nettle glared.

”And now I know where you are.” I perceived what might have been a reptilian smile. The dream dragon took off into the sky.

”If she opposes us, we may be killed.” I reminded Nettle.

”Don't worry about that. I'll keep her in line.” Nettle's eyes narrowed. I do believe she meant it. “I haven't forgiven you yet, but I've been trying to reach you for days. Queen Kettricken summoned me. Somehow she knew about us and asked me to Skill for her. There's trouble here. The nobility are all turning on each other. Duchess Faith's castle in Ripplekeep is under seige by Duke Ram's private armies. Lady Grace moved her husband to send them aid, but their men were cut off. With Lady Patience absent from Tradeford, it seems that her Ivy guard have become divided. Some joined with Kelvar's men and some have joined with Ram. The Queen is sending our men to their assistance, but it seems that more are deserting every day. Lord Shemshy of Shoaks is apparently occupied with the Chalcedeans, but there are rumours that he feels slighted by Prince Dutiful's snubbing of his niece, Advantage.”

I went cold as she reported to me. Civil war in the Six Duchies? “Did Queen Kettricken say anything about the reason behind all of this?”

”Duchess Faith is suspected of being witted. They say her animal is a hawk, her sister too. The Farseers are being accused of having the Wit magic too, and there is talk that some people do not want a King or Queen at all, but a counsel of Dukes. I've been paging for Lady Patience between training, and she's apparently found an old scroll among the ones you sent her. She says it tells the true tale of the Piebald Prince. It's a sad story, but as it tells it, he was not evil or wicked at all. She's been telling everyone who will listen to try to change their opinions, but no one listens.”

The scrolls the Fool had sent her so long ago under my name, supposedly to appease her anger at me for concealing that I still lived. How much of this had the Fool foreseen? And all of this while we were gone. I snarled, feeling useless. I had to report this to Chade.

Nettle interrupted my thoughts. “There's more.” She looked at me. The set of her jaw was determined and her eyes were bright. “I've been promoted to squire. I'll be accompanying Blade Havershawk's company.”

”No.” My answer was immediate. “It's too dangerous, Nettle.”

Her gaze hardened, “You helped me to join the guard. Did you not think I would fight? I've been training hard. I'm capable.”

”No.” I lowered my head and breathed. “I know you are capable, but I care about you. I could not live with myself if anything befell you. Please. Stay with the Queen. You are our only link to Buckkeep Castle. Stay with her and I will relay news of what Counsellor Chade decides and how the Prince fares.”

”I may consider it. For now. But I will fight eventually, Shadow Wolf!”

I thought back to the Fool's warning. “If you must fight, then not with Blade. Promise me. Find another company.”

”Why not Blade?”

”Trust me. Please? A compromise.”

She sighed. “I'd like to yell at you some more for blocking me out. If you do it again, I won't forgive you. What is that music that rides so heavily on your Skill?”

Music? I thought about it and then listened. “That's Thick. He is strong with the Skill, and he sends it out like a song.”

”Well it's awfully depressing.” Her expression turned sad. “He sounds so lonely and miserable.”

”He's been ill. Life aboard a ship does not agree with him.”

”I see.” Nettle picked at a few blades of grass. “Are you not going to tell me that you've missed me?”

My mind was too full of the news she'd given me, but I spoke true when I answered: ”I miss you, Nettle.”

”I miss you too. I won't let you run from me again, so let's dream together again tomorrow night. It is nearly morning now.”

”How can you tell?”

”I just can. Can't you?”

”No, not really. Time moves differently for me while I sleep. I should go, though. I must report this to Counsellor Chade.”

”Good morning, Shadow Wolf.” At Nettle's last words to me, the dream dissipated and I opened my eyes in my bed.


	15. Dutiful's Determination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! I'm sorry!

Chade pounded his fist on the table and swore through gritted teeth. “Damn, damn, and damn!” he roared and stood, pacing several turns around the small cabin. “Is that everything she said? Every word?”

”Every word exactly as she said it, Chade.”

”Damn.” He said again.

Dutiful was pale. “We should turn back. I should be at my mother's side.”

Chade clenched his fists against the table top. “No. We cannot turn back now. Offend them, and the Outislanders may become another enemy we must deal with. Divided as we are, we could very well lose. No. We continue on.”

”We sail while my mother fights a civil war?!” demanded the prince.

”Yes, we sail! We sail until we reach Zylig where we will make alliances with the hetgurd. Then we sail on until Aslevjal where we kill that damned dragon Icefyre and throw down his bloody head on the hearth of the Narcheska's mothershouse. Then we sail back, possibly with an Outislander fleet at our backs, and we put an end to this rebellion.” Chade snarled. “How could I have failed to see this?”

”The Fool was urging us to ally ourselves with Bingtown. We didn't listen. Do you suppose we could have diverted this by focusing our efforts against Chalced?”

Chade pinned me with his piercing green gaze. “What use is it to think of what might have been? We must turn our attentions to what can be done to protect the Farseer throne. I don't suppose your Fool made any mention of that?”

I shook my head.

”Well then.” Chade sank back into his chair, “That is all that can be done.”

Dutiful frowned at us, “There is another issue here. The fact that the two of you were aware of and trained another Skill user without informing me.”

Chade looked at me as though to say he told me so. I looked back hoping that he would have an explanation for my secrecy. Dutiful's anger grew and his frown transformed into a glare. “I have had enough of secrets from the two of you. Who is she? This Nettle.”

”She is Burrich's daughter, my prince.” I said, “Burrich was stablemaster at Buckkeep castle and also served as Kingsman for my father, Chivalry. She recently came to court to be trained and try for a guard company. Her goal is the Queen's guard.”

”And you have known of her Skill and trained her?”

”I knew of her Skill. I cannot say that I've trained her, for she seems to have an intuitive grasp of the magic.”

Dutiful leaned back in his chair. “One so highly Skilled should have a place in my coterie, not be swinging a sword.”

”My Prince, I thought it best if we leave a solo Skill user in Buckkeep castle in the event that messages had to be relayed swiftly.”

Dutiful looked very much like a Farseer king as he narrowed his eyes and said, “And evidently that was wise. I would have agreed with you, too, if you had seen fit to ask me. Why did you keep this from me?”

I bowed my head, “I am accustomed to working alone. It honestly never occurred to me. I apologize for my oversight.”

”You will introduce us. I should know who my own messenger is.” Dutiful decided and then frowned at Chade, “And you knew as well. What was your excuse?”

”Prince, I did not feel it was my secret to tell.” The old man bowed his head too and looked repentant. I inwardly snorted.

Dutiful looked down at the tabletop and his expression was hard. “I know that the two of you must see me as a boy, but I am your prince. Soon I will be king-in-waiting, and then I will be you king. Chade, you are my mother's advisor. Fitz, you are my cousin, my Skillmaster, and my friend. I need you to see me not as a boy, but as your future monarch. You must trust me in my rule, and I must be able to trust you... How can I do that when you insist on keeping secrets from me? When you do not respect me? When you battle me for authority?” The last comment was directed at Chade. We remained silent and Dutiful sighed. “I will admit that you are more experienced and that I behaved like a child when I ran away. Those things do not alter the fact that I need to be able to trust you.”

”You can trust us, Dutiful. My Prince.” I said.

”I know that... Fitz, my country is at war and I am sitting on a ship miles from home.”

”You can trust us,” I repeated. “I know it is hard to be here while there are battles being fought at home, but you are doing something very useful. What you do now is better than sitting in the castle. Your are building an alliance with people who may be able to help us.”

Chade growled, “Getting Outislander help to fight our own men... If it can be avoided, we will avoid it. It stinks too strongly of the Red Ship War. Still, better to have them as allies than enemies at this time. Even if all we can do is avoid a war with them for another decade. Fitz, I want to know the battle plans. I need to know who allies where, what their numbers are, what the attitude of the people is.”

”I'll skill to Nettle.” I promised, “And we'll see if it's possible for me to introduce you to her via the Skill. You should be able to reach her through me and then know the shape of her in the current for yourselves.” I dreaded the thought. Nettle was mine.

”What do we tell the captain and the others?”

”We tell them nothing,” Chade answered the prince's question. “And we find out who already knows that trouble was brewing. Worse, we find out if anyone is conspiring against us. I screened the nobility and the merchants well, and all have motivation for seeing this alliance succeed, but we must see if stronger motivation has presented itself.”

I nodded. Dutiful nodded as well, his expression one of great concern. My own face was grave. I had hoped to never see another war in the Six Duchies. Not in my life time and hopefully not in my children's lifetimes. I hated that I could do nothing and I am certain that the other occupants of the room felt the same way. I opened myself to the Skill and reached for Nettle.

 _I see you've stopped avoiding me._ Was Nettle's teasing response.

_You're very persuasive. Nettle, are you able to gain audience with the queen?_

_I'm Blade's squire, not the queen's handmaiden. I've been given permission to call on her, though. Give me a moment._

”Nettle's going to find Kettricken.” I told the others.

Chade nodded, “Good. Damn the Narcheska and her silly challenges. I almost wonder if the hetgurd isn't conspiring against us, luring us out of Buckkeep.”

”It's possible, but it could also have been a lucky chance for the rebels.”

Dutiful frowned, “Rebels. They're our own people. My people.”

”Not until they bend the knee, Dutiful. Until then they will not see you as their prince or your mother as their queen, so you would do well to set sentiment out of your heart. We may not be able to end this one at the negotiation tables.” Chade sighed. “Six Duchies blood will be shed over this and they want it to be yours.”

Dutiful paled, “What?”

”You heard Fitz. They're attacking the witted nobility and talking of ending the Farseer reign. Who happens to be both witted and a Farseer? Either alone would have been enough for them to want you dead, but both?”

”They do not know that I'm Old Blood!”

”But you have a Wit Coterie and you've had meetings with the Old Blood and Piebald delegates. Your best friend is Civil Bresigna. The Witted Bastard has risen from the grave to stand at your side. How long will it take for them to put two and two together, declaring you the next Piebald Prince? We all know what happened to him.”

No wonder people had been treating me so strangely. “No-one knows that I went with Verity to wake the dragons. There was one song about it and it was only ever sung once. I've been Tom Badgerlock ever since. People who knew Tom Badgerlock will realize that I was in hiding, but that's all.”

Chade gave me a withering look. “Which is why we planned on integrating you into court life slowly. That has only fed the rumour mill, unfortunately, as we've already discussed.”

I had to admit that it did not look good for Dutiful. Now that it had come to bloodshed, would there be any talking sense into the people?

_Shadow Wolf? I'm with the Queen._

Nettle's Skilling startled me. _Good. One moment._ “Nettle's with the Queen.” I announced.

”Will you ask if she's alright?” “Ask her if any move has been made on Buck.”

I sighed. “Both of you reach for me with the Skill. I'll bridge you to Nettle.”

And so we did, with Chade reaching out a bony hand to clutch at mine, strengthening our connection.

Dutiful Skilled to her before I could make the introductions. _Nettle? Is the Queen all right?_

 _Excuse me? Who exactly are you and why are you barging in?_ She sounded as offended as if he'd walked in on her dressing.

I coughed. _Nettle, this is Prince Dutiful. Lord Chade is also here._

_Forgive me, I'd expected princes to have better manners. Queen Kettricken is fine, though she looks a bit tired._

Dutiful was now just as offended. _You do realize that I am a prince and my country is at war._

If Nettle were a cat, she would have hissed. _The war will keep long enough for you to announce yourself before barging into my mind!_

 _That's my fault, Nettle._ I interjected. _I helped them find you in the current. We'd like for you to relay some messages to and from the Queen._

_Very well. We'll discuss this later, then. What is your message?_

Chade Skilled his request. _Have her tell us the state of the Six Duchies._

A pause. _Buck guards have been sent to aid with the defense of Ripplekeep. Tilth has taken the Bear River and is diverting shipments. Duke Holder has allied with them, but what remains of Lady Patience's Ivy Guard is actively opposing Holder's men, so Farrow is divided. Shoaks is undeclared. Rippon is with us, but Kelvar's lost two thousand men in the last battle and word has it that many of the remaining men are deserting. One of Ram's companies raided a village suspected of having a large Old Blood population._ Nettle paused again and then added. _They had them all hung, quartered, and burned. Those who could not escape._

I felt sick. This was what the Six Duchies people had become. We burnt each other. I took a shaky breath and exhaled slowly. “We have to go back.”

”We can't, boy.” Chade's voice was firm, but the knuckles of his fisted hands were white. “What we do here and now is more than we would be doing there.”

I hated that he was right, but I told myself that if I was in Buck, then I could at least wield my axe in battle. Shedding my countrymen's blood. I shook my head.

 _Is there anything else?_ Nettle asked.

Chade relayed his instructions to Kettricken, and then Dutiful took his turn asking after his mother's well being. I withdrew from the Skill current and then a question came to me. _Nettle. Have you seen Lord Golden about the keep?_

_I haven't. I've heard rumours though. Apparently he was imprisoned at the docks and then his creditors came after him for their money. He escaped and no-one's heard from him since. Why?_

I frowned. Where had the Fool gone? Was she alright? Questions that I would have no answers to if Nettle did not find them for me. _If you hear any other rumours about him, please let me know._

Nettle seemed annoyed at my evasiveness but did not question me further. We conferred for some time until Kettricken was called away to other duties, and then it was just Dutiful, Chade, and myself again.

”What now?” I asked.

”Now we smile,” Chade instructed, “And we drink, and we socialize, and we let no one know that anything is amiss. We see who knows what aboard these vessels, and then we do our damnedest to impress the hetgurd. With any luck, even if Dutiful does not complete his quest, we will still have made some alliances.”

”I'm completing the quest.” Dutiful frowned. “I'll slay the dragon and win the Narcheska's hand. If I must lead an Outislander army against my own people, then I will do it if it means that we will once again have peace in my lands.”

I left, dreading the days to come.


	16. Songs

Starling was entertaining aboard the Maiden's Chance that evening. I was surprised that she had not sought me out for conversation in the time we'd been sailing, but I supposed that she was probably still upset with me, at least a little. Or it was possible that she was just distracted; Cockle was accompanying Starling's harp with his flute and his eyes seldom strayed from her. Well, marriage hadn't stopped her before.

I was a member of my erstwhile lover's audience that evening, but my attention was mostly on the crowd. There had long been tension among the nobility, and as always it seemed the divide was between coastal and inland duchies, with Blackwell and Fairheights at the centre of it. Now I paid closer attention to the bickering and which alliances formed. Did it reflect the war currently dividing the Six Duchies? Were there political undercurrents or mentions of beast magic? Most importantly, what was the attitude toward Dutiful? To me, it seemed that each one of them sought Dutiful's favour regardless of their duchy or their status as noble or mere merchant. Where they differed was in their attitudes toward me. 

Since Lord Thistle had spoken to me and had not been eaten, mauled, or whatever it was they expected an Old Blood to do, some others had become bold enough to try to make the Witted Bastard's acquaintance. Perhaps they sought to earn some favour from Dutiful or Kettricken by befriending me, or perhaps they thought that I had some influence at court that could be used to benefit them. Whatever the motivation, I was invited to join several of the nobility at cards or stones, or to listen to a recitation of some long dead poet's work. Today's entertainment was hosted by Dutiful, and those in attendance were taking full advantage of the opportunity to ingratiate themselves with the young prince.

”Ah, FitzChivalry!” A voice called out to me. I sighed.

”Shouldn't you be joining Prince Dutiful's circle?” I asked of Lord Thistle.

”Hm? Oh, no. Nothing to say! I'm afraid I have very little in common with a young adventurer, but there you have it.”

”And you have something in common with me?”

”Not at all, but I do have my honour. I always keep my word and I suppose we do have a mutual friend, speaking of which.” Why Lord Golden had inflicted Thistle upon me was a mystery. He would be no help in a battle and frankly he was very little help socially either. For all of his fashionable dress and haughty airs, the man was rather unremarkable and a coward as well.

”Why are you here?”

Thistle looked affronted and blustered, “I do believe I've explained myself to you several times. Lord Golden requested that I-”

”No, I mean why are you on this voyage?”

”Oh. Well.” Thistle straightened the lace at his cuffs. “My father thought it would do me good. I'm older than he was when he sired me but he doesn't think of me as a man at all.”

I remembered the handkerchief and letter that I'd found when I'd looked through his room in the keep. “Not trying to impress your lady?”

Thistle's tiny eyes widened and then his face set in a frown. “Ah. There is that too. Carena, her name is. I don't deserve her.”

He probably didn't. I studied the slightly portly man before me. Had I been right in my assumption that he expressed a more than friendly interest in Lord Golden? If the Fool was to be believed, then they were simply good friends. But what kind of a man could become friends with someone as judgmental, arrogant, and decadent as Lord Golden? Either way, I did not like him.

”What about you?” He asked with effort when my silence had stretched too long. “Have you got anyone special?”

The first answer that came to mind was no, and then I hated myself for it. The Fool and I had sex, but it did not feel like what I'd had with Molly. The Fool seemed to enjoy touching me: brushing out my hair, smoothing my clothes, a casual hand on my forearm or shoulder. We had the same easy conversations that we'd always had. She frustrated me deliberately with her mockery and then kissed away the furrows in my brow.

But I didn't love her.

”Sort of.” I replied and looked away.

Perhaps sensing that he'd brought up a difficult subject, Lord Thistle cleared his throat. “Beautiful music, isn't it? She's the composer of Antler Island Anthem, is she not? Do you know one another well?”

”You really don't have to force yourself to make conversation with me. In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't.”

He gave a long suffering sigh, but had nothing to say in the face of my obvious disinterest in him. To my disappointment, he didn't leave, but stood beside me for a time watching the minstrels. Starling was practically glowing, and the voyage was agreeing with her. She seemed to be one of the few not affected by the general gloom and discontent that pervaded.

”He talks about you.” Thistle spoke again. “Rarely when he's sober, but often while he's drunk. I know that you always cut yourself when you're shaving because you rush, I know that you know how to mix your own inks, I know that you never remember to straighten your collar in the mornings. I probably know you better than my own brother, and all from a drunk man's rambling. I also know that you have a strong dislike for me. Well, I want you to know that I don't like you either. There. I've said it.” He exhaled and nodded minutely as though congratulating himself.

”Wonderful.” I glanced around, wondering whether there was any way to escape his company.

”But,” he continued, “I don't hate you as much as some of this lot.”

I sighed and decided to make the best of it. “So tell me about that. Which ones hate me and why?”

Thistle straightened his cuffs again. “Well, I hate you because you've always been rude to me for no reason at all. I suppose it isn't so much hate as it is dislike. That man over there, Stoke? He hates you because of your magic. He can't stand Old Blood. Robin thinks that you're corrupting the prince and trying to get the Old Blood more power, but he mostly hates you because he's afraid of you. He heard all of the tales of you being able to turn into a wolf and disembowel a man. He's been telling people that you've, erm, engaged in improper activities with animals...”

I raised my eyebrows and leaned back against the railing. Perhaps the man was more useful than I'd thought.

”... doesn't mind you, really, but he pretends to because he's a friend of Blackwell.”

”I have a favour to ask you.”

Thistle stopped his listing and frowned at me suspiciously. “What is it?”

”Can you find out what their attitudes towards Prince Dutiful are? Beyond their desire to gain status in court, I mean.”

”I suppose that I could do that. What will you offer me in exchange for this service?”

I thought about it. “My thanks. I could try to be more civil as well. I'd offer you gold but I have a feeling that it would injure your pride.”

”That's a good start. I have need of very little else.” Thistle nodded, “It's a bargain.”

He could have asked me for a tract of land in Farrow if he thought the knowledge was important enough to me. “A bargain,” I confirmed.

”I might as well get started. The company will be better at least.” He started to walk away, then gave me a glance back. Nodding once to himself, he reached out and straightened my collar. “It's been irritating me all day...” He turned and made his retreat before I could respond.

He would be better at gathering the information than I would be. Having delegated my mission, I turned my attention back to Starling. She truly did have a beautiful voice.

While by day we enjoyed the many entertainments available to us, at night we reconvened and Skilled with Nettle to hear the news of the Six Duchies. There was little change from that morning's tidings, but we all felt better to be kept informed. After Dutiful had retired to bed and Chade did whatever it was he did in lieu of sleep, I returned to the guards' quarters.

Riddle and Hest were both sitting on his bunk, a stones cloth spread between them. Riddle waved me over to them and I went.

”Help me out, would you? This is the fourth game we've played and I'm losing again.”

”It would be cheating if I helped you.” I sat down on my own bunk and watched as Riddle scowled at me before placing another stone down.

Hest concurred, “That's right. You won't get better if you don't play seriously.”

Riddle groaned and pushed the cloth and stones aside before falling backwards onto his back. “I don't want to be serious. I want to have fun.”

”You aren't having fun losing. Get better and you'll start having fun.” Hest was practical. He straightened the game cloth again.

Wary approached, “I'll play you, Hest.”

Riddle glared. “You wouldn't play me.”

”That's because you're a cheat.”

”Would I have lost if I cheated?” Riddle demanded.

Hest smiled, “Yes.”

”Tom, play cards with me.”

Playing cards while the duchies were at war. “Alright.”

Riddle moved over to my bunk and took out some playing cards. I raised my eyebrows at him when the number of cards he held increased by one, but I had not seen any slight of hand. He beat me, and the next time we both cheated outrageously. We became more and more bold with our deceptions, and I surprised myself by enjoying it. This was a use for Chade's tricks that I had never bothered to take advantage of. We were both grinning when we agreed to call it a night. Riddle kicked Hest and Wary off of his bunk, and we said our good nights.

I dreamed that I was aboard a ship, which was unsurprising, but rather than tucked away below, I was standing at the bow of the vessel. It was a fleet ship and the night sky was pleasingly clear. I was wearing furs, and the contrast between the warmth of my body and the cool sea breeze on my face was refreshing. As I looked at the distant stars, it occurred to me that for thousands of years and for thousands of years hence, the sky had been and would be there, unaffected by the doings of men. I envisioned it spangled with not only stars, but the glinting jewel tones of dragons.

The scene shifted, and I saw the same sky as I stood in Nettle's dream garden. She stood beside me, and rather than her dress of butterfly wings, she wore armor of plates that resembled a dragon's scales and her helm had the ridges and brow line of a dragon as well.

”It's beautiful,” she said.

”It is,” I agreed. “How are you? I hope it was not too tiring to Skill so long for our Queen.”

”It wasn't. It was very startling when some strange boy intruded into my head though.”

I chuckled, “My apologies. I should have warned you that I'd be guiding the others to you.”

”That's right you should have! My mind is a private place. It was like him walking in while I was in the bath or changing my clothes.”

I thought about it and realized that perhaps I had been negligent in teaching my daughter how to use her magic. I knew what it was like to have someone use the Skill on me without my permission and with ill intent. “It is a private place,” I agreed, “And it must be frightening to have a private place that anyone can barge into. Do you remember when I'd blocked you from reaching me with the Skill?”

”Yes, and you're not to do that again either.”

”Well, I did that by setting my walls. Er, creating a barrier that stops people from getting into my mind when I don't want them to, and also stops my thoughts from getting out.”

Nettle nodded thoughtfully. “When I don't want to be found by you, I just hide. But then I suppose that no one else could reach me either.”

I didn't know what she meant by hiding. “Probably not. What I mean is different. The walls keep you separate from the Skill: they keep things out and you together inside. Once you have them up, you can strengthen them or relax them, and they let you know when someone is reaching for you. They're there to keep you safe. Would you like me to try to teach you how?”

Nettle frowned, and I thought perhaps that she was displeased that something had not come to her naturally. We spent some time, I know not how long, with me fumblingly trying to explain the concept to her, and her sighing at me exasperatedly. At last we decided that upon waking, I would help her set her walls and then she would repeat it on her own. I was not a very good teacher, but I was the only one remotely qualified to do the duty of Skillmaster. I told Nettle as much.

”So,” she said, “Not only are you a member of the Prince's Guard and an illegitimate prince yourself, you're also the Skillmaster? Are there any other jobs you have that I should know about?”

None that she should know about. “I do what I am commanded to do.”

”So do I, now, so I understand. You know, neither of my parents ever told me that Da was a soldier once. When Blade chose me as his squire I asked him why. I wasn't the obvious choice, since I'm new and a girl, but he said he'd known my da and that he wanted to see that I was trained well. He said he considered it an honour.”

I tried not betray my sudden discomfort. Blade had known both Burrich and I. To which father did he refer? “Burrich was very well respected among the guard, and he was favoured by my father, Chivalry. He was a strong warrior and he was apparently both well-liked and feared. When I first saw him as a child, he could silence the men-at-arms room with just a word. Unfortunately, the injury to his leg resulted in his being honourably dismissed, but he still held true to his vows. When Chivalry gave me to him to raise, he did it without question and he did his best with me.”

”So our fathers were friends.”

”Yes. They were friends, good ones. Though Burrich was Chivalry's kingsman and guard, from what I've heard, they were often informal with one another.”

”Did you ever know your father?”

”No. I never met him. He abdicated the throne, left for Withywoods, and he was killed some time later.”

Nettle looked sad and then angry, “Imagine a father not even introducing himself to his son. That's awful. He gave you to another man to raise and didn't even try to be there as a da should.”

To hear Nettle say those words was like an arrow through my heart. I looked away, and I think that she attributed a different cause to my reaction. I did not want to be having this conversation, and I wanted to change the subject, but this might be my only chance to explain my actions to my daughter, even if she did not know what I had done. “I'm not angry with him. I was at first, because my mother had left me and he had left me and...” I shook my head. This was not something to tell my daughter. It was over and done with. “It would have been dangerous for him to acknowledge me. I have had my doubts about his death being accidental. He must have thought that being at Buckkeep with Burrich was the safest place for me. I didn't really understand that as a child, but I do now. He would ask for news of me from his brother, Verity. If he truly hadn't cared, he would have had me killed. That's what's done with many royal bastards. He didn't though; he tried to keep me safe.”

Nettle was quiet for a time and then nodded, “Lady Patience speaks of you some times. More often now, actually, what with your magic being of such interest. She says she wishes that she hadn't been so upset with Chivalry and that they could have had the raising of you together. She calls herself your mother.”

I nodded stiffly. I had wanted that too, but it was a wanting that was old and had, with the years, turned from hope to yearning to disappointment and a hundred other things. It was no more than a wistful fancy of what might have been now. “Patience is like a mother to me. When I first met her, I was given to her as her page, just like you were. She tried to teach me poetry and music. I was awful at it. You've seen how she is, she kept mixing up the lines and thinking I'd learned it wrong.”

Nettle giggled, “Yes. She's an amazing woman though. She knows so much about everything, and she is a bit odd but I think that she's less naive than she lets on.”

”You're probably right.”

The sky in Nettle's dream garden darkened, and I heard the rumble of thunder like the beat of enormous drums. Nettle looked at me curiously.

The rumble of thunder became feet pounding on the deck above and my eyes opened in the dim light of the single lamp we kept burning. People were shouting. Was there a storm? Some problem with the ship? Pirates? I sat for a moment, listening to the sounds. There was one cry muffled by distance, the noise of the ship, and the wood between them and us, abruptly cut off.

Riddle was up too. We looked at each other. Longwick was stirring and at his shout, the rest of the guards were roused. I swung my legs out of my bunk, put on my sword, and ran for the ladder. Riddle was at my heels. As soon as I was above, I swung my gaze left and right, wishing keenly that I still shared my wolf's senses. Riddle stood beside me. When I looked into the distance I could see fire burning on the water. One of our accompanying vessels.

Shouting broke out and then the ring of metal on metal. More of the guardsmen crawled out from below.

”To the prince!” I shouted, forgetting that Longwick was captain.

More thundering of hastily donned boots on plank. I started in the direction of the shouting, then Riddle gasped and I spun just in time to catch a man's blade with my own. We parted and I did not bother to think as I lunged.

 _We are attacked!_ I Skilled wide to Nettle, Dutiful, Chade, Thick, anyone who could hear me, before my walls were sealed and the battle at hand claimed my mind. My adversary was dressed in dark colours and was almost a shadow, but his sword reflected the moonlight. He deflected my blade and countered. I locked swords with him, drew my dagger with my free hand, and stabbed him in the neck. He went down choking. I leaned down to look at his face, but it was too dark. Someone had extinguished the lamps. I turned to go find Dutiful.

There was shouting all over the darkened vessel now, and I heard a splash as though someone had fallen overboard. I ran for Dutiful's cabin, dodging men exchanging blows, the metallic scent of blood clinging to the back of my throat. I was engaged again by a man who very nearly impaled me. I roared and over powered him, pushing his blade back, getting inside of his reach, and stabbing him in the gut. He cursed and punched me in the jaw, staggering back and raising his blade defensively. I slashed, he blocked and tried to stab me. I stepped aside, nearly tripping over something. His blade came at me again, and I raised my own to stop his. I pushed him back then ran him through. I jerked my blade free of his body and hurried on.

It was dark aboard the ship. The moon and stars were my only light. There were groans, shouts, and cries coming from all directions. The Prince's guard was engaging our enemies, but in the darkness, I could not tell one body from another to guess who was winning. One might have been the captain, but I could not pause to investigate. The smell of blood was sickening. I reacted before I could think, spinning and taking a slice to the arm rather than a knife in the back. I stumbled when the rocking of the ship surprised me but still managed to deflect the next strike. For a time, I simply fought.

Then it was no longer dark, and light flickered and set shadows to writhing, each one an enemy until I could be sure it was not. The smell of smoke joined that of blood and sea air. A hand on my shoulder, I spun and pointed my blade at their chest. Lord Thistle's features were revealed to me and I could not understand how he'd returned to the Maiden's Chance.

”What are you doing here?” He didn't seem intent on attacking me and he was lucky I hadn't skewered him. I did not lower my weapon. He could have been one of the traitors.

”B-B-boat. They lit the ship aflame. We barely managed to escape, but some of us got one of the boats before they could. The prince. I followed them and thought to warn you, but...”

Either an accident had occurred, or a fire had been deliberately set on the Maiden's Chance. Fire was a man's worst enemy at sea. Could we defeat our attackers and then put out the blaze? It would be the best outcome. Who knew how far we were from land? If we abandoned ship, we would have no supplies and probably not enough ship's boats. They'd extinguished the lamps. A clever enemy would have loosed or destroyed the boats. No, they would need their own escape if they'd planned the fire. A cleverer enemy would try to take the ship intact though. No other ships in sight save our own. Treachery?

Thistle had his own sword. It was clearly more for show than for battle, but the way he held it and the positioning of his feet showed me that he had at least had some training in how to use it. He saw the direction of my gaze and dropped his blade.

If he tried anything, I would kill him. I turned and ran for the prince's cabin, my heart echoing the pound of footsteps on the deck. I paid no mind to whether Thistle followed me or not. I urged myself to go faster when I saw the huddle of people by the prince's cabin. Bodies littered the way and I leapt over them without glancing at their faces. I saw both servant's livery and guards. Dutiful was kneeling on the deck, Chade beside him. Where was Thick? A guardsman was standing before them and I allowed myself to think ahead. With their safety secured, would we flee or fight? Could we stop the fire?

I staggered when I felt a blade pierce my shoulder. Snarling, I spun and thrust my sword through a man's neck. Another came at me and I saw his Farrow colours before I opened his stomach. A third knocked me to the deck and I felt his blade at the side of my throat.

I'd almost made it to my prince. I could see blood on Chade's robe and Dutiful was looking at me in horror. Boots filled my vision and I looked up. The guardsman stood over me and I recognized him as Chaser. “Can't hang you here,” he observed, “but I think killing you and burning the bodies will suffice. All of you dirty beast magickers die here.”

”You can't be sure of that.” I ground out, “Are you willing to spend the rest of your life in fear of the horse you ride? The dogs in your kennels?” I was beginning to panic as the level of betrayal sank in. How many others of Chade's carefully selected Prince's Guard were false?

There was a choked cry behind me and the pressure of the steel against my throat lessened, replaced by the weight of a body dropping on top of me and forcing the air from my lungs. I pushed myself up and him off of me, my shoulder screaming in protest. Quick as I could, I thrust my blade up beneath Chaser's ribs.

His body fell and I looked back. Thistle was staring at the body of the man he'd apparently slain. I would thank him later. I ran for Chade and Dutiful.

”Are you alright?” I demanded.

Chade growled. “Blind. I was such a fool.” He wiped a trail of blood from his right eye; it looked like his brow had been split by a hard blow.

Dutiful was shaking, but he stood and looked about him. “We have to do something.”

An idea struck. “Where is Thick?”

”Still in the cabin. He's terrified and the guard overlooked him.”

”Put up your walls. Stay safe.” I thrust my sword into his hand, keeping my dagger, then ran into Dutiful's cabin and into the little servant's room. It was dark and Thick was cowering in his bunk. The room smelled of sickness and fear.

”Thick. Thick, I need your help.”

”Go 'way.” He groaned.

I forced myself to patience as I spoke with him in a low voice. ”Thick, this is important. Your song right now, it's afraid right? I need you to make your song louder, Thick, much louder, so everyone can hear it. That'll stop all of the scariness, okay?” But fear was dangerous, “Can you remember feeling sad? When you said you wanted to go home but you couldn't and when the boys took your whistle? Can you make your song very sad? Please, Thick, I promise I'll get you lots of sweets as soon as we're back. We need to make the bad people sad so they'll stop trying to hurt us.”

It must not have been a hard thing for him to do. The little man was terrified and when a wave of despair slammed into me, it was all that I could do to raise my walls in a feeble defense. I was a child, afraid and alone, crying for a mother who never came and who never would come. It echoed deeply inside of me and inside of a wolf-memory of blood smell and smoke. I exhaled shakily as I reinforced my walls.

I staggered out of the cabin again ready for another attack. Not all men were affected by the Skill, and not all men reacted to such hopeless sorrow in the same way. Dutiful and Chade were still safe, and Dutiful's expression was stricken. “Walls tight,” I reminded him.

Thistle was on his knees beside the body now. I went to him. “Who were our attackers?”

Tears glistened on his cheeks in the flickering light. We had to get the fire out. Would we be able to do that with many of our loyal men unmanned by Thick's Skill song? “I don't know. I only saw the servants. They must have had friends among the crew... I killed him, FitzChivalry.”

There was no time for more than that. I killed two more servants who should have been on another vessel. I found Riddle and ordered him to find someone coherent to help him restrain any more he saw. Vaguely, I noticed that the sun was rising. I gathered Hest, Staunch, and several others to help put out the blaze, expanding my walls to include them as best as I was able to with my unreliable talent. I sealed myself tight in battle conditions, and we were not safe yet. Walling them in too was less difficult than sending out or receiving a message would have been. Longwick was already organizing a similar effort and I helped with the buckets until I lost my balance and fell. It took some time for my vision to clear and I realized I'd been bleeding. I felt as though I might be sick. I tried to get to my feet again, but dropped and knew no more.


	17. Waking

Our dead were put to rest at sea, and our numbers were far fewer than we'd started the voyage with. Chade had more foresight than I had, and kept prisoners for interrogation. All this, I did not find out until much later though. The next few minutes, hours, or days, I spent doing many things. I was a farmer in his field; I saw a boy, scruffy and thin, peering through the trees at an encampment; I saw blood and heard the ring of steel on steel, shouted orders over the din; I stood in a tower overlooking the sea, wondering what my husband saw there. I was distantly aware of searching for something, someone, but all I could think of were butterflies and that wasn't it at all. I was bonded to a wolf. Where was he? I reached out, but all I saw was snow with no tracks to follow.

When I was next aware of myself, I had opened my eyes in an unfamiliar cabin. I spent I know not how long looking up at the ceiling. Was it real? Who was I?

”Beloved.” A voice next to me said, sounding anxious. Through the chatter of a thousand voices at the back of my mind, that voice was loudest. The sounds were meant to convey a meaning, but what was it? I played with the sounds of them in my mind. Clumsy, useless things.

Ice on my wrist. “ _Beloved._ ” I heard it and felt it like the impact of a great fall, and oh, that's what it meant. It was me.

Another voice growled in the background. More chatter. Then I felt a sting on my face and I opened my eyes again. When had I shut them?

”You felt that. Focus on it.” I did. More ice touched my forehead and partially obscured my vision. “Do you feel that too? I'm touching you. Try to follow my fingers. Brow. Cheeks. Nose.” So the cold touch went. When I felt my focus drifting, the words turned Skill as well, commanding my attention. Yes, I did have arms, didn't I? And I was flesh.

”Did you slap me?” I frowned.

A laugh that sounded more hysterical than glad came from beside me and the Fool was there.

”You did. Why did you do that?” My voice sounded scratchy.

”Because while you were off frolicking in the Skill current, we were unable to heal you.” Chade sounded cross. Dutiful was there too, looking tense and wide eyed. 

Had I been injured? I'd been so many places, so many people, it was hard to keep track. The Fool reached out and touched me again. Forearms, hands, fingers. One hand stayed always on my wrist, just in case. I could feel his annoyance and for a moment I marvelled at our connection. “Pay attention to feeling what I'm doing. Do ignore Chade, though, he ignores everyone else as it suits him.”

”Stop it. No, Chade, you stop too. I've had enough of you two bickering.” Dutiful's voice.

”Wait.” I tried to sit up, and then regretted it and stopped the motion. “What are you doing here?”

”Enjoying myself while you're helpless.” A wicked smirk preceded the Fool placing his hand dangerously high on my thigh. Dutiful coughed and the Fool removed his hand before I could push him away. Push her away? For a moment I was confused. Through our connection, I knew my boyhood friend who I'd always known as male, but I knew his physical body was female, and it was disorienting. Hadn't I resolved this already? It was further complicated when I noticed the abundance of wooden jewelry and the fur trimmed dress. The Fool must have felt my confusion too, because he raised his eyebrows at me and then winked.

”If you are quite done...” Chade grumbled.

”Quite.” The Fool rose and let go of my wrist. Without backward glance, she strode out of the room. I turned my attention to Chade.

”Where are we?”

”Zylig. You missed quite a lot. Dutiful, fetch Thick. We'll heal him and we can finally get out of this barbarous place...”

Dutiful shook his head, “Not very diplomatic of you.”

”No-one of importance heard it.”

”Oh, thank you.”

”Fetch Thick. The sooner he's well, the better.”

”I'm your prince, not a serving boy. Chade, when are you going to remember that and treat me with respect?” Dutiful frowned at Chade for a moment before giving in and turning for the door.

I groaned, testing my muscles and feeling my wound. ”Actually,” I said, pushing myself upright, “I think I would rather let it heal the old fashioned way.” The memory of my last Skill healing was not a pleasant one.

Chade snorted and I was sure he thought me just as primitive as he thought the Outislanders. Nevertheless, I swung my legs over the side of the bunk. Only then did I notice that the ground did not sway beneath me. “Where are we?”

Chade's expression turned even more disgusted. “Zylig. You've already asked.”

”No,” I rubbed a hand over my face and looked at the old man, “I mean, where in Zylig are we?”

”The Bear clan graciously provided us with accommodations. I don't trust it. We'll be leaving to the Narwhal clan's territory soon, visiting Elliania's mothershouse. Now that you're well, we can leave almost immediately.”

”Wait. How much did I miss? What of the traitors? What goes on in the Six Duchies?”

”War.” Chade paced closer to my bunk and sat beside me. The old man looked weary, but I knew that it was the waiting that tired him. War agreed with the old fox. “Internal strife is our greatest weakness, and yet we open ourselves to our old foes. Perhaps I've gone mad in my old age. At least when we fought the Outislanders, we did it as one people. Now we're a pack of prejudiced dogs all turning on each other. How easy it would be for them to help us to kill each other.”

”So are we breaking the alliance? Going home and fighting?”

”Of course not. We carry on. It's too late to change our minds now. Offend them, and war is almost certain.”

I sighed. “Nettle, is she all right?”

”I should say so. As stubborn as her father. She's decided that she's going to fight and that's that.”

That did not sound like all right to me. “Excuse me?”

”Thankfully,” Chade interjected, “Dutiful convinced her to stay close to Buckkeep to relay messages.”

”My daughter is fighting in a war?”

”Safe for now. I suppose that will serve as motivation for you to help us complete this quest. The sooner we secure the Outislander's cooperation, the sooner we go home.”

I would be having a word with Nettle later.

”Get dressed,” Chade rose and threw a shirt at me. “We're leaving.”

Chade departed and I dressed myself, feeling stiff and groggy, and unsure of what I would find once I opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! This is probably the shortest update I've ever made.


	18. Parenthood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever, hasn't it? If anyone is still reading this, I'm sorry. I gave up on this for a long time, but guilt and a bit of inspiration brought me back. This story taught me a lot while I was writing it. I learned that I'm pretty terrible at planning event-based plots, and I learned a lot about my writing style too. I feel like I owe this story an ending, and so I will write it.

There followed a disorienting time for me. I had apparently wandered in the Skill current throughout the negotiations. When I stepped out of my sickroom, I was thrust immediately into a world of dry land, bustling trade, and cold. The air stung my nose to breathe it in, and the wet chill seeped through my clothing into my very bones. Through the sharp bite of the cold air, I caught the scents of unwashed men, fish, and the sea. I stumbled and had to lean against a rough wooden wall briefly as a wave of dizziness crashed over me. My strength seemed to flee with it as it passed. Chade did not wait for me, though, and the Fool was already out of sight. Not that I would have recognized her. Had I hallucinated her strange costume?

I had not. We passed through the ramshackle trade down without any pause for me to get my bearings. I gathered from Chade’s distance that he was cross with me for some reason. Perhaps offended that I’d dared to be injured. I fought back a welling of irritation. The old man had worries of his own, with war in the Six Duchies.

I saw, as we approached the harbor, that we were destined not for the Maiden’s Chance, but for another fine vessel that was unfamiliar to me. She seemed not to have seen a day of rough sailing. The design of the hull spoke of a southern influence, all graceful lines for cutting smoothly through the waves. What caught my attention was the figurehead. So stunningly worked was the carving that I would not have been completely surprised if it came to life. A man leapt forth from the bow of the ship, a great spear held aloft by a muscular arm. My attention was drawn away when I noticed the Fool ascending the ramp. She was welcomed by another woman, who clasped her by the arm and tilted her head in an inquiring way as she spoke. Jek, I recognized. The Fool, no, Amber, waved a hand dismissively and followed the other woman across the deck.

I forced my unsteady legs to hurry and caught up to Chade. “What is this?” There were many questions in my query. How had the Fool caught up with us? Whose ship was this? Why were we boarding it?

Chade shook his head discontentedly. “We’ve no choice. That damned trickster outmaneuvered me. We were short on crew, many were wounded, and the nobility and merchants uninvolved in the mutiny were fearful. When he arrived in full disguise with a hold full of food, trading goods, medicine, I could hardly turn him away. He wormed his way into the negotiations and damned if he didn’t convince them to side with us. The hetgurd refused to take Dutiful seriously because of his youth and his gender. Apparently a female voice was needed to persuade them.”

A female voice indeed. “So he helped our cause. It does not seem to me that you’re particularly pleased,” I observed.

”It’s galling is what it is, Fitz.” Chade scowled. “Your friend has made his ‘opinion’,” this word he spat like an obscenity, ”on the matter of Icefyre very clear. I will not have him steal authority away from me. This quest will be completed and Dutiful will be married to the narcheska if I have to slay that dragon with my own hands.”

We quieted as we boarded the ship. Amber broke away from Jek with a smile and hurried to my side. Her stride was shorter than the Fool’s, I noticed, and the way she tilted her head just slightly as she looked at me was different. She smiled with a worried crease between her brows. “Are you well? Your things are stowed in one of the cabins. I could take you there if you’d like to rest?” A gentle offer.

I had neither the energy nor the inclination to partake in the charade. I shook my head and then reconsidered. A quiet place to talk would be welcome. “That would be appreciated,” I said, unsure how I was supposed to react to this new character.

Amber took my arm and led me away. I heard Chade scoff behind us. The wood of the deck was bright and polished, and my nose was full of the smells of wood and tar. My cabin was small, but clean and better than many passenger vessels could boast. I saw my chest fastened securely beneath the bed, which I sat on gratefully. I rubbed a hand over my eyes before looking up at Amber. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on, Fool, and no riddles. I’m not quite awake enough to wrap my head around them just yet.”

Amber melted away with a shift of her stance, a tilt of the chin, and a weary grin. The Fool stood before me again, looking like a cat with a bowl of cream, pleased at his fine trick. His, because I perceived in a detached way how much the Fool was still male in my mind, just as Lord Golden was. Amber was female, and so was Beloved. It was a bizarre realization that fit somehow, and I decided not to question the disorienting sensation. The Fool’s eyes squinted with mirth and he looked at me as though we two shared some jest that was unknown to anyone but us.

”I had a feeling that something like this might happen,” my friend declared, “and I was right. As I often am. It took quite a bit of planning and quite a bit of time, not to mention quite a bit of Lord Golden’s money, but I was prepared. When you left me behind,” at this the Fool paused to give me a pointed stare, “I had already made arrangements of my own.”

”Yes, I can see that,” I said impatiently.

The Fool huffed at me and continued as though I had never interrupted. “Jek was in need of a ship, and I just happened to have the means to obtain one. A peace offering to mend the damage that I did to our friendship by not telling her of my identity when I was Lord Golden. I financed the building, outfitting, and manning of the ship. In return for my investment, Jek agreed to take me to find you.”

The simplicity of that final statement was a warning sign to me that there was much that my friend was not telling me. I frowned. “Is that so?”

The Fool had the grace to look abashed. “I may have exaggerated Amber’s desperation somewhat. My own, however, was genuine.” At this, the Fool grew serious. He sat next to me and kicked his feet like a child. “I’m so close now to completing my life’s purpose. I could not allow myself to be thwarted by mere want of a ship.”

”The dragons,” I said.

”Yes,” confirmed the Fool. “The fate of mankind rests on this journey, Fitzy. I understand that you’re reluctant to believe me, but it’s true.”

I shook my head in denial even as I debated. “The Six Duchies are at war. We need this alliance with the Outislands. If I wake Icefyre instead of killing him, the narcheska will turn Dutiful away.”

”If you kill Icefyre instead of waking him, all hope for the world is lost,” countered the Fool.

”My daughter is fighting in that war, Fool.”

”I know.”

I sighed. “Let’s say that I believe you. Even Chade believes you, apparently. The White Prophet can see the path toward a better future. There are two of you, though. You and the Pale Woman. You both disagree on what should happen, so how can I believe that either of you are correct?” Thinking on all of the different possibilities was more philosophical thought than I cared for, but I forced myself to try. The matter was important enough to the Fool for him to buy a ship and sail after me.

The Fool looked as offended as I’d ever seen him. I sensed that I’d prodded an old wound. His mouth opened and shut several times before he spoke. When he did, his voice was tense and deliberate. “When the time comes, I promise that the decision will be yours alone.”

I could have asked a thousand more things. I could have pointed out that the Fool hadn’t answered my question. I did neither. Feeling somewhat guilty for my words, though I could not fully understand why, I changed the subject. “Thank you for pulling me out of the Skill current. I don’t know how I managed to drift away like that.”

”You’re lucky that I did,” the Fool said matter-of-factly. “And so am I. Chade was quite irritated when I managed it. I think that he’s jealous.”

I snorted in disbelief. “Well, thank you anyway.”

The Fool didn’t respond in words, but leaned closer and pressed his lips to mine quickly, as though afraid that I’d pull away. I did not. We’d been apart too long, and things had been uneasy between us when we parted. I hoped that whatever was out of place would be mended with that kiss, and so I turned toward Beloved and kissed her soundly, putting one hand on her waist and the other on her back. There was something that I wanted desperately. A feeling of oneness and passion. When we broke apart, Beloved’s eyes were wide and dark as they met mine. A small smile played about her reddened lips. I had to look away, guiltily. I still didn’t love her.

”You need to shave,” Beloved commented, patting me on the cheek playfully. She did not appear to have noticed my turmoil. I turned my face to look at her again, hoping that she would remain unaware that anything was amiss. Beneath the jewelry, furs, and gems, I saw signs of exhaustion. My guilt deepened as I thought that I should have noticed earlier. Her face had a thinness reflective of many weeks with more worry than appetite, and her eyes were rimmed with shadows.

”Are you alright?” I asked, frowning as I took those details in. 

Amber smiled back at me, embarrassedly. “I’m afraid that I don’t do well on ships. I’ve been a bit seasick. Just when I thought I’d gotten used to it, we ended up on dry land and I was sick there too. Soon we’ll be sailing again.”

I shook my head. “Weren’t you a carpenter on a liveship?”

”I suspect that it’s the cold and rougher waters.” Amber rose and straightened her furs. “We’ll probably be casting off soon. I’m going to see if Jek needs anything.”

And so I was left alone in my tiny cabin. So much had happened, yet after mutiny and news of war back home, still we were continuing on towards a dragon that may or may not exist, all on the whim of a girl. It was hard to believe, but what choice did we have? Having lived through one war already, it was not the idea of war that bothered me. It was the helplessness that came with being so far from where I could be of any use while my daughter, my queen, and my people fought. It was frustrating. Curious, I pulled out my chest and examined the contents. Everything was still in order. Even the rooster crown with its feathers were safely packed and undisturbed, along with my carefully concealed packets of poison. After checking to be sure that none of those had been tampered with, I put everything back as it had been and refastened the chest.

The next few days were a misery for all of us. Beloved had not been lying about her seasickness, and it was not uncommon to see her with her head over the side while Jek held her hair for her. Jek scowled darkly at me when I tried to approach, and I gathered that she still did not care much for my company, so I kept my distance. Among our small group were Riddle, Hest, Web, Swift, Starling, and Cockle. I spent some small time gathering their impressions of the last few days. The minstrels were already composing a song about the mutiny, each keeping their compositions a guarded secret from the other. I shook my head, but supposed that everyone had their priorities.

For Chade, Dutiful, and I, that priority was across the White Sea back in the Six Duchies. I could not say if our contact with Buckkeep through Nettle’s Skill was a good thing or bad. Chade was nearly obsessive in his demands for details on strategy and reports, and Nettle was frequently impatient with him, status be damned. Her long silences while she was out with her fellow guards left Chade on edge, and he prowled the deck of the ship like a restless cat, snarling at anyone who interrupted his brooding. 

Dutiful did his best to be patient, but the stress wearied him. All of the arguing agitated Thick as well. Thankfully he seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be seasick, but that meant that he had more energy for tantrums when Chade and Nettle were at one another’s throats.

Most disturbing for me was when Nettle went quiet. The first day without contact was easily explained by the simple fact that she was fighting. Though Chade grumbled and I fretted over the idea of my daughter in combat, I recognized that there was little I could do. It made me feel old to think that the child I’d sired during the first war of my life time was now old enough to fight in the second. Surely she was too young still, my heart protested. She was older than I had been when I’d become involved in such grizzly matters, though, my mind knew.

On the second day, I began to worry. Surely she could have skilled to me before sleeping for the night, or upon waking if she’d been too tired. Still, her silence continued through the rest of that day. I reached for her through the Skill current more times than I would care to admit, but with each failure I grew more restless. She had no reason to hide from us, and if she’d erected walls as I’d taught her, I would have still been able to find her. Instead there was simply nothing. That absence ate at me.

On the third day, I felt her there, faintly. She was like a scent on the wind, or a name on the tip of the tongue. Sitting alone in my cabin, I lunged for that trace of her and held fast to it. _Nettle!_ I skilled, desperately willing her to answer me. I had not acknowledged the extent of my worry until the moment that the relief crashed down on me.

It was not long-lived. As our connection solidified and my mind connected with hers, I was immediately aware of pain. It filled my awareness and I felt sick with the knowledge that it was hers. I tried to deepen our connection, to know more and perhaps wield her body to get her out of danger. My effort was thwarted by a veil that clouded my Skill. Was that what Verity experienced long ago, when he tried to reach me? I knew that I blocked the Skill while I fought. Was my daughter the same? Was she in danger? Would I know it if she were killed? It was suddenly difficult to breathe. I retreated from the Skill current and sat panting. Fear placed a cold grip on my heart. My Nettle was in danger. When I could breathe again, I skilled to Chade and Dutiful.

_Nettle is in danger!_ I skilled. Dimly I was aware that the force of my sending had so startled Chade that he dropped a scroll that he’d been examining.

_Calm yourself and report to me, boy,_ he commanded. _How did you come to know that?_

With difficulty, I forced myself to relax the tension in my muscles and unclench my fists. _I was reaching for her. I tried so many times. When I finally found her, I tried to form a Skill connection with her. I was able to, but it was tenuous and I was aware of her pain. I could not tell if she noticed me, and I could not deepen our connection. When I tried, it slipped away from me. We have to do something!_

I sensed Dutiful’s rising worry. As much as they bickered, the two had come to relate to one another almost as siblings. An only child and a lonely one, Dutiful had come to enjoy that fledgling bond. _Could you tell how badly she was hurt?_

_I couldn’t._

Chade stepped in. _You know as well as I do that there is nothing to be done, Fitz. As unpleasant as that is, we did not turn this ship around for the start of a war. We cannot turn it around for the sake of one soldier, either._

I hated his cold logic. _She isn’t just a soldier! She’s--…_ I nearly betrayed the secret of her parentage. _She’s a member of our coterie. Our only connection to Buckkeep._

_Be that as it may, we must carry on._ Chade was firm. I could feel his upset, and knew that my news worried him as well. _Even if we turned the ship around now, we would not be in time to save her if she is indeed in danger. Whatever happens will happen. ___

I growled, frustrated, and broke our connection. My hands were shaking, I realized. I set my head in my hands and shut my eyes. With all of the force I could muster, I skilled out again. The effort left me gasping, but I could not find my daughter.

_Nettle!_ I skilled, casting her name out directionless into the current. There was no reply.


End file.
